The Fallen Kind
by memorysdaughter
Summary: When Artie's motion detectors go off unexpectedly, Warehouse 13's agents find an unconscious girl in the midst of their artifacts. As she becomes more and more dangerous, the warehouse's family must be on their guard as they figure out who she is, where she's from, and what her appearance means.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I hope you'll enjoy this first chapter. More soon!

* * *

The Fallen Kind

"Claudia, have you seen John F. Kennedy's rosary?" Artie called, seemingly into thin air.

With a _clang_, the overhead air duct popped open, and Claudia stuck her head out into the office. "Wasn't it over on Aisle 91 in Sector 3?"

"That's where the computer thinks it should be."

"The computer's probably right. Actually, the computer's _always_ right."

"… but it's not there."

"Did you check?"

"Yes, I checked," Artie said with long-suffering patience. "It's not there."

With another _clang_ and an _oof_, Claudia jumped out of the air vent, landing squarely on the floor. She and Artie both coughed for a moment as all of the accumulated dust in the air vent snowed down upon them.

Claudia waved her hand in the air. "Whoo. You really should have had these cleaned out years ago."

"Until you came along, nobody wanted to climb up in them," Artie said.

Claudia crossed to the computer and started typing away madly. "Are you sure? Pete seems like the kind of guy who would love crawling around in air vents. He'd probably just pretend he was in a spy film."

She gave the keyboard another few clacks. "See? It's right there."

"That's the rosary of Pope Leo XIII," Artie said.

"Are you sure?"

"I can read!"

"You know what? I'm going back into the air vents. They appreciate me in there."

"_Who_ appreciates you?" Artie asked, exasperated.

"Um, the roly-polys and the earwigs," Claudia said. She hopped up onto the corner of the desk and hauled herself back into the air ducts.

"It's the great disappearing Claudia!" Myka said as the door swung open, admitting her and Pete.

"Hey, how come Claudia gets to crawl around in the air ducts?" Pete demanded.

"I volunteered!" Claudia said, her voice somewhat muffled.

"She volunteered?" Pete asked, peering upwards. "I didn't even know you could do that."

"Any time you want to volunteer to clean the air ducts, please do," Artie said. "What are you two doing here?"

"Didn't you call us?" Myka asked, holding out the Farnsworth.

"I've been here, looking for a rosary," Artie said.

"The air ducts can't be _that_ dangerous," Pete said, still staring up into the dusty gray void.

"It's not to _pray_ with," Artie said.

"The Farnsworth beeped," Myka said, "and your name came up on the screen but not your picture. I figured it was just a dropped transmission…"

"Wait, it beeped?" Claudia said, and poked her head down into the office again.

"I didn't call you," Artie said, turning back to the computer.

"It's the motion detectors!" Claudia exclaimed, and came tumbling out of the air ducts.

More dust filled the air as she windmilled her arms uselessly in the air, dropping in an ungainly heap. "Ow," she said, wincing. "No, no, I'm fine," she said, shrugging off Myka's assistance.

"So somebody's _in_ the warehouse?" Artie demanded, bolting out of his chair.

"Could be," Claudia said.

"_Could be?"_

"Or it's a ferret," Claudia said. "Or a bird. Or any of the thousands of roly-polys I've displaced."

She scrambled over to the computer and quickly brought up one of the security feeds. "Look, it's nothing," she said.

"Must have been a bird," Pete said.

"Wait," Myka said as Claudia freeze-framed the shot. "What's that?"

She pointed to the corner of the shot, and almost as one, the four leaned in towards the screen.

"It looks like… a foot," Claudia said.

"Oh, gross," Pete said. "A body?"

"Maybe it's just a foot," Claudia said.

"That's not better," Pete protested.

"Can you shift the shot upwards and to the right?" Myka asked Claudia.

"Sure," Claudia said, and clattered away at the keyboard.

The shot shifted in the direction Myka had indicated, with the flickering grainy pixels at the edge showing the feed was live. "Oh, my," Artie said, looking over his glasses. "Is that…?"

"It's a person," Claudia whispered.

"It's _who?"_ Pete wanted to know.

"It's a girl," Myka said.

There was a quick second of silence, and then the office erupted in conjecture.

"Where did she come from?"

"… lot bigger than a bird!"

"Maybe she fell in through the…"

"… they're not supposed to get in here, but sometimes they do and…"

"- heard about this one agent who used to keep a BB gun next to his Tesla…"

"Wait!" Artie cried, throwing up his hands. "Wait. Slow down."

The conversation screeched to a halt.

"We need to go check it out," he said. "If it's a security threat we'll deal with it."

"What else could it be?" Myka asked.

"We work in a warehouse full of mystical objects," Pete said. "It could be… anything."

"Could it be related to the missing rosary?" Claudia spun in the chair to face Artie.

"No. Unless somehow our intruder is going to run for public office," Artie said.

"What?" Pete looked confused.

"I'll fill you in on that part later," Artie said. "Right now, we need to get down there and figure out what's going on."

* * *

As odd as it had looked on the security feed, from a distance things had seemed plausible. It was much easier to deal with the unknown when it was kept away, pixelated on the screen in black and white and gray.

It didn't _hurt_, Myka thought, as much as showing up in Sector 4 to find an actual _person_ lying on the ground.

As long as it was pixels, it was okay not to care. Much harder to do so in the face of reality.

"She looked bigger on the screen," Myka said as they approached cautiously, guns and Tesla at the ready.

"She looked older on the screen," Claudia said.

"Guess you're not the youngest person to break into the Warehouse now, huh?" Pete asked, grinning at Claudia.

"A record I was, frankly, hoping would stay in place," Artie said a bit distantly.

A tiny dark-haired girl was sprawled on the floor between a box full of Emily Dickinson's pens and the juggling balls of Enrico Rastelli. She was painfully thin and her eyes jerked behind closed lids, as though she was having an unpleasant dream. She was barefoot and clothed in what seemed to be a mismatched set of loose pajamas, a long-sleeved shirt festooned with purple and red snowflakes and shin-length pants with a pattern of bright yellow stars.

"She's wearing a bracelet," Myka noticed. "I can't read it from here."

Cautiously, almost as one, the four stepped a little closer. The girl did not move; she remained on the floor as though she was an angel whose wings had been precipitously revoked, causing her to tumble to earth in a broken collapse from grace.

"How about now, Mikes?" Pete whispered.

"Why are we whispering? She's asleep," Claudia whispered.

"I think it's a number," Myka said, squinting at the white plastic bracelet fastened securely around the girl's scrawny wrist. "E-six-four-eight-nine-two-one."

"Does that mean anything to anybody?" Pete whispered.

There was a collective shaking of heads.

"Does she have a pulse?" Artie asked.

Myka, who was the closest to the girl, slid a bit closer and knelt down next to her, putting her fingers on the girl's wrist. "It's slow and faint, but it's there."

"What do we do now?" Claudia asked.

"We can't just leave her here," Myka said.

"No, that would be irresponsible," Artie agreed. "Let's take her back to the office. We'll try to figure out where the bracelet came from, and we can get Leena over here to read her aura, see if we can get anything off that."

Pete holstered his gun and scooped the girl up in his arms, leading the way back to the office. He laid her on the couch. For a moment they just stared.

"She doesn't have any wounds on her hands," Myka observed. "So she didn't break in the old-fashioned way."

"Could she have gotten in through the air ducts?" Pete stared up into the dusty void.

"No," Claudia said promptly. "They don't lead directly outside, which is why they're so… dirty. There's a secondary duct system that blind-ends before you even get in here. She would have ended up in an outside grate. Stuck, but outside. And plus, she's not dirty."

"So, then what? She came in the TARDIS?"

"Only if we've fallen into a TV show," Myka said, giving Pete a sarcastic glance.

"TARDIS isn't a bad idea," Artie said. "Myka, call Leena, will you?"

"What do you mean, TARDIS isn't a bad idea?" Myka questioned, pulling out the Farnsworth. "There's no such thing."

"Well, there isn't an actual TARDIS," Artie said. "But there are plenty of objects that, for lack of a better phrase, pull the geographic switcheroo."

"But they're all here," Claudia said.

"The ones we _know_ about are here," Artie said. "There are plenty… hundreds, maybe… of artifacts we don't know about. Any of which could have caused a shift in temporal location."

"So, what? She _time-traveled_ into here?" Pete was clearly getting more confused.

"Not time-travel," Artie said. "That's a difficult one to pull off. But changing locations is easier, relatively speaking. Whoever she is, I don't think she did this on purpose."

"How come it knocked her unconscious?" Claudia sat down gingerly on the couch next to the girl.

Artie sat back in the office chair. "Maybe she hit her head on a shelf on the way down. Or maybe… maybe she was pushed."

"Leena's on her way over," Myka reported, closing the Farnsworth.

"Good."

"She's got a killer goose egg right there," Pete said, indicating the back of the girl's head. "Probably going to hurt like crazy when she wakes up."

They sat in silence, staring at the girl until Leena came through the office door. "Whoa," she said upon entering.

"Too much aura?" Claudia asked.

"No – girl in the Warehouse," Leena said. "I don't need an aura to tell me that. Where'd she come from?"

"No one knows," Artie said. "We spotted her on the security feed after a motion detector went off. Went down to check things out and… turns out she was there."

"Who hit her in the head?" Leena asked.

"No one," Myka said.

"She came that way," Pete added.

"At this point we're more interested in the _who_ and the _why_ rather than the _how_," Artie said.

"Well, sure," Leena said. She turned her attention to the girl. "She's scared. She's confused. That's all I get right now."

She leaned forward and placed one hand on the girl's arm. "And I think if…"

As though her words were some sort of trigger, the girl's eyes flew open. She grabbed Leena's arm and, with a frightened scream, began to smack herself on the side of the head with her free hand.

Leena pulled back. Pete and Myka got to their feet. Claudia jumped up off the couch.

The girl's eyes were wild as she scanned the office as though searching for something. She yanked back from Leena and jumped up, running around the office. "No, no, no, NO!" she yelled, smacking her hands against the door. She bolted over to the chalkboard in the corner of the office and stared at it, then smacked it, hard.

"No, NO NO NO!" she whimpered, panicked, and grabbed at whatever was closest.

It happened to be books from the bookshelf, and they fell around in her a torrent of pages and words. Their fall from the shelf startled her, and she screamed again, flailing out blindly. Her hip hit the desk, rattling the computer equipment, and she dropped to the floor, sobbing. She brought her hands up to her face and buried her head in them, pulling herself into a ball.

"Please, no," she cried, rocking back and forth. "No, no, _no_."

Myka and Pete exchanged glances. Leena looked at Artie, who looked shell-shocked.

Claudia took a few cautious steps towards the girl, and then sat down on the rug facing her.

The girl kept her head buried in her hands, rocking back and forth fiercely as she cried.

"Let's… let's give them some time," Artie suggested.

"Sure," Pete said. "Sure."

"We'll… go back to the B and B," Leena said.

As Myka, Pete, and Leena left, Artie put one hand on Claudia's shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Claudia said softly. "So far."

"I'll just be right down the hall," Artie said.

He left, and then the only sounds in the office were the girl's sobs.

"I know you're scared," Claudia said after a while. "I'm sorry you're scared."

The girl brought her hands up to her ears and rocked forward blindly, her eyes closed as tears dripped down her face.

"It's okay to be scared," Claudia went on. "But you're safe here."

"No, no, no, no, no," the girl said. "No. No."

"I promise. You're safe."

"No. No. No. No."

"I'm here if you want to talk," Claudia said. "Actually, I'm here if you don't want to talk. I'm here."

The girl sniffled, and brought up one pajama-clad arm to wipe across her eyes. As she did so, the sleeve rode up, exposing the bracelet and what looked like another bracelet, a series of bruises around her wrist.

"Did someone hurt you?" Claudia asked, reaching forward without thinking.

It was the wrong movement. The girl screamed and pulled back, starting to smack her head again. "No, no, no, no, _NO!"_

"I'm sorry," Claudia said softly. "I'm sorry."

And she was – sorry that she couldn't console another lost soul. Sorry that the girl had suffered. Sorry that someone hadn't protected her. Sorry that people had to suffer at all.

But she couldn't express any of that, at least not without sounding far too chatty. So she sat, and listened as the Warehouse's newest inhabitant sobbed like her heart was going to break.

And it broke Claudia's heart, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

* * *

The girl just sobbed, and Claudia sat, helpless, and watched her. She could hear Artie in the corner, flicking through the card catalogue, no doubt in search of the missing rosary, but she didn't want to take her eyes off the girl.

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been more than one, the girl's sobs slowed, got softer. And after another long pause, the girl raised her head from her knees.

Her dark eyes found Claudia's face immediately, and she reached out. Claudia could definitely see the bruises ringing the girl's wrist – making two purple-bruise bracelets, as though someone had put handcuffs on the girl and then left her to struggle.

She made a soft, questioning, murmuring noise and her hand drifted across space, as though searching for someone.

"Artie," Claudia breathed, and her mentor was behind her before she realized she had spoken.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think she's blind," Claudia said. "Did… did an artifact do that to her?"

Artie waved his hand in front of the girl's face, to no response. She groped out to one side and found the table, then pulled herself upright. Calmer than she had been on her first trip around the office, she carefully reached out and found the wall. Keeping her left hand on the wall, she put her right hand out in front of her and began to trace the room.

Claudia and Artie stared as the girl made a lap of the room. She was uninterested in anything she touched; it seemed to be more of a fact-finding mission. The doors held no special intrigue for her; she touched them, catalogued them in her mind, and moved on.

Once she was back at her starting point, the table, she walked the length of it and held her arm out into thin air.

Claudia took her hand.

There was a flash of light and then images started pouring through Claudia's mind –

_Men in white uniforms. Nurses? Quickly moving. Grabbing. Hurting._

_Flash of a needle, silver. Hurting._

_Arms hurting. Screaming. Screaming. Nobody's listening. Where are they?_

_No-no-no-no-no-no-no –_

_Help me!_

"Claudia!"

"Make it stop," she breathed. "Make it stop!"

"Claudia, it's over! It's over!" Artie grabbed her by the shoulders.

She wrenched herself away from him. "Let go of me!"

"Claudia – it's me. It's Artie," he said.

Her head was ringing. "Artie."

"We're in the Warehouse," Artie went on. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Where'd she go?" Claudia asked. She shoved herself upright.

"She's right there," Artie said, and pointed to the corner. The girl had curled into a ball again, her hands pressed over her ears. "What happened?"

"When she touched my hand… it was like I went somewhere else."

"You did. To the floor."

"No, like – where she was."

"And? Any clues?"

"Um…" The room was spinning around her. "I need to…"

And with that, she crumpled to the floor.

* * *

"That girl was wearing a bracelet," Myka said as soon as they entered the B and B.

"With a number, if I recall," Pete said. "Do you think there's fresh cookies?"

"A bracelet with a number. What kind of places put numbers on bracelets?" Myka mused.

Pete slung his jacket over a chair. "Hell's Angels?"

"Pete."

"Uh, okay – concerts. Conventions. Big… events. Seriously, do you think there are…"

"Cookies," Leena called from the kitchen.

"Yes!" Pete scrambled off.

"Leena," Myka said, as she followed him into the kitchen, "you saw the girl's bracelet. Where do you think it came from?"

"Maybe a school?" Leena suggested. "Some sort of residential program?"

"Residential," Myka murmured. "Hmm."

His mouth full of cookie, Pete said, "A hospital."

"A hospital!" Myka snapped her fingers. "That's it!"

"Really?" Pete seemed surprised.

"It makes perfect sense! It explains her outfit… her confusion… the bracelet." Myka was gathering speed. "We just need to trace the number."

"Do you remember it?"

Myka grabbed a pencil and pad from the counter and scribbled away.

"Of course you do," Pete said.

"E-six-four-eight-nine-two-one," Myka said with satisfaction. "Let's get on it. I bet we'll figure out where the girl's from before Artie and Claudia do."

* * *

Artie checked Claudia's pulse again. Thready but steady, and she was groaning something about monkeys and oatmeal. _She'll be fine._ He turned his attention to the girl in the corner. "You've come a long way, haven't you?"

She stopped rocking; the frantic movement of her hands against her ears stilled. She brought her hands up and held them out, palms down, as though she was expecting him to handcuff her.

"You've come a very long way," Artie said, looking down at the purple-blue bruises encircling her wrists.

She moved her fingers.

"Are you…?" Artie looked from the girl to his keyboard and back. "You are… you're playing the piano."

He leaned in, grabbed the girl under her arms, and pulled her to her feet. Quickly he carried her across the room to the piano and forced her into a chair.

Her fingers found the keys and music began to spill out into the room.

Claudia groaned. "Not the monkey…"

Artie watched the girl as she played, flawlessly, emotionlessly. The music was familiar. "Mozart – _Rondo Alla Turca_. You play beautifully."

"Artie – don't taunt the monkey," Claudia said.

"Don't worry about her," Artie said to the girl, though she appeared not to even have acknowledged that anyone else was in the room. Over and over, her fingers played _Rondo Alla Turca_.

"Artie, the monkey can play the piano…" Claudia moaned, and then sat up, suddenly clear-eyed. "Is she…?"

"She's a savant," Artie breathed.

"An escaped savant?" Claudia asked. "Where do savants escape from?"

_Alla Turca_ started over again.

"Listen to her," Artie said. "She plays with technical precision but no emotion. Classic savant syndrome."

"So, um… Beethoven's ear trumpet?"

"That would have made her deaf, not blind."

"Uh – the conducting baton of Glenn Miller?"

"If I recall correctly, that one had more to do with changing the tempo of events rather than moving through time and space."

Claudia shook her head. "Sorry. My head's still spinning. She did a number and a half on my brain."

She ran her fingers through her hair as she thought. "You think that's all she knows?"

"Savants generally have an extremely wide repertoire," Artie said. "It's all in how you trigger the response."

"Hmm." Claudia reached for her jacket and yanked her MP3 player out of one of the pockets. With quick fingers, she scrolled through the options before selecting a song. She let the first thirty seconds or so spill out into the room.

It was all the girl at the keyboard needed – her fingers moved from _Alla Turca_ to the song that had started playing on Claudia's iPod, "Morrison's Jig," a traditional Irish classic. Again, the technical precision and speed were there, but there was no emotion.

"Amazing," Artie said.

On his desk the Farnsworth began to vibrate. He turned and opened it. "What?"

"Well, hello to you too," Pete said. "Myka thinks she's found where our mysterious intruder escaped from."

"Yeah?"

"A pediatric residential psychiatric facility in Great Cooper Lake, Illinois, reported a missing inmate two days ago. Myka's still looking, but it seems like their missing inmate is fifteen, female, and violent."

"I want you two there ASAP to find out if our mystery guest is in fact that missing patient," Artie said.

"Really?" Pete sounded surprised. "Are you sure? I mean, we don't even know if an artifact was involved, and…"

"She's in our Warehouse, Pete," Artie said. "And she certainly didn't come in of her own free will. If that's not an artifact, then I'm not sure what is."

"Um, okay," Pete said. "What are we looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary," Artie said, moving towards the computer to call up flight information. "And anything that…"

"Smells like fudge. Got it," Pete said. "I'll tell Myka. Um, Artie?"

"What?"

"Be careful."

"Morrison's Jig" turned into _Alla Turca_ again, still emotionless and precise.

Artie closed the Farnsworth.

"We can't send her back there, Artie," Claudia said

"Back where?"

"Wherever she came from. You saw the marks on her hands. What were they doing to her?"

Artie stared at the girl, whose hands moved fluidly over the keys. She was lost in her own world. "I don't know. And we're not sending her anywhere. For all we know, that might not even be…"

"It is," Claudia said with certainty. "It fits with what she showed me."

"Showed…?"

"Like this," Claudia said. "Give me your hand."

"Claudia…"

"Give me your hand," she repeated, and with a sigh, Artie acquiesced.

Claudia reached out and took the girl's hand. Light flooded through the room, and with a crack –

_Running. Running. Hiding._

_Hurt. Hurt. Hurt._

_Hurt. Everywhere._

_Lost. Reach out –_

_Bruises. Bruises everywhere. Too much. Too much. Too much._

_Havetogetaway!_

_No-no-no-no-no-no!_

_Help me!_

Claudia yanked her hand away from the girl, her head ringing. She didn't feel like passing out, though, which she took as a good sign. "See, Artie? We can't send her back there. Ever."

Artie grabbed the edge of the desk and forced himself into a chair. "Oh. Well. Huh."

He looked at the girl, whose fingers rested on top of the piano keys, lightly, not moving. She tilted her head and stared somewhere over his head, blankly. Then she raised her hands to her mouth and bent her head downwards. As tears started to stream down her face again, she whispered, "Sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

* * *

The Great Cooper Lake Children's Psychiatric Hospital was one of the ugliest buildings Pete had ever seen. Squat, brown, dumpy – it looked like a prison. And the tall chain-link fences surrounding the building, topped with spirals of razor wire, only served to add to that image.

"Nice place," Pete commented as Myka pulled the car up to the entrance gate.

"There's a lot of security here," Myka murmured. "Too much for a bunch of sick kids."

A guard came out of the shack near the gate and leaned into the open window. "Can I help you?"

Myka pulled out her badge and flashed it at him; in the passenger seat, Pete did the same. "We're here to see Dr. Wilson-Farrell."

"And you are?"

"Agents Bering and Latimer, Secret Service," Myka said.

"What's the Secret Service want with Dr. Wilson-Farrell?" the guard asked, leaning in a little farther.

"That information is classified."

"Government ain't never interested in what happens here… then that little witch goes missing and suddenly there's more cops 'round than we can handle," the guard said. With a shrug, he went back into the guard shack and opened the gate.

Myka drove through.

"Little witch?" Pete asked quietly. "What do you think he meant by that?"

"Pete – a girl shows up in our Warehouse unannounced – whether it's magic or not, _something_ transported her to South Dakota." Myka pulled the car into the visitors' parking lot.

"Let's go see what the good doctor can tell us, then," Pete said.

Dr. Wilson-Farrell turned out to be a squat, balding man with thick glasses, reclining in a ripped vinyl desk chair in a gross, tile-floored office decorated with several diplomas and a haphazardly-hung watercolor landscape. "Secret Service," he said, looking over their badges with bored, glossy eyes. "And you're interested in an escaped child?"

"We're interested in a lot of things," Pete said.

"What can you tell us about the escaped girl?" Myka asked.

Dr. Wilson-Farrell laughed a short, humorless chuckle. "Seems like I've been asked that question more in the past two days than ever before. Been here ten years and nobody's even come to visit her."

He handed them a thick burgundy folder. "Here's her file. I've got to go do rounds. I'll be back."

With that, he left.

"Guess we'll… do some reading," Pete said. "Not exactly a people person, is he?"

Myka brought the file over to the doctor's desk and flipped it open. "Let's see…"

_Name: Reagan-Arden, Wrenna Adelie. Called "Adelie" by drop-off personnel._

_Birth-date: 07/14/99_

"She's fifteen," Myka murmured. "So young."

"Younger than Claudia," Pete said. "The record's been broken."

_Primary diagnosis: Kanner's Syndrome, savant sub-type._

"Kanner's Syndrome?" Pete asked, pointing.

"I think it's a form of autism. It must be. It says she's a savant."

_Secondary diagnosis: Optic neuropathy_.

"And she's blind," Myka said.

_08/2004. Patient arrived here shortly after fifth birthday. Was brought to the facility by a child protective services representative. Patient was found alone in a single-family residence in Chicago. Patient, at the time, was selectively mute and showed signs of severe sensory deprivation. Visual acuity testing showed visual field 20/200. Hearing normal. At this time her IQ was tested below 40, but testing staff are aware that the circumstances surrounding the testing are non-optimal. Patient shows no interest in music, books, art supplies, toys, or playground equipment. Patient does not speak, either on command or spontaneously. Patient shows no attachment to any object or person. Patient refuses the majority of food and supplements given, but will eat if forced._

_01/2006. Patient approached a piano without direction, sat down, and began to play. Patient plays with technical precision and clarity. Her repertoire seems to be endless. Requests from staff members were immediately played. Patient distinctly displeased when asked to leave piano. A search for her family members continues._

_04/2006. Patient demonstrating severe self-injurious behaviors. Patient has become hysterical on three separate occasions. 1.0 mg IM Haldol given by on-call MD. Patient continues to rock, poke at her eyes, bite her fingers, scrape her face, slap herself, and rub her wrists against doors and walls until bloody. Patient appears to feel no pain. Patient refuses to leave piano unless forced. Patient will vomit when displeased. Patient screams w/o end, 1800-2400. Psychotic episode non-responsive to 1.0 mg Haldol x q2._

_08/2007. Patient attacked on-staff psych tech. Patient then became hysterical and non-responsive. Waxy catatonia lasted 94 hours and was not responsive to 1.0 mg Haldol x q4. Patient taken to soft room. Patient unable to eat. Patient demonstrating more self-stimulation behaviors._

_12/2007. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Sorry. Sorry." When asked to repeat herself patient did not respond._

_05/2008. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Help. Help." When asked to repeat herself, patient did not respond. Patient's psychotic episodes have increased to every 12-24 hrs. Episodes are non-responsive to 2.0 mg Haldol x q4 or q8._

_07/2009. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Stop."_

_11/2009. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Help. Please."_

_12/2009. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Go" and "Away."_

_4/2010. Psychotic episodes are every 8-12 hrs. Patient is non-responsive for 12-24 hrs. following episode. Self-stimulation and self-injurious behaviors continue._

"She's really ill, Pete," Myka murmured. "She's…"

The Farnsworth started vibrating in Pete's pocket. "Hang on, Mykes." He flipped it open. "Go, Artie."

"Is it her?" Artie demanded.

Pete looked over at Myka, who was still deep into the file. "At this point, we think so."

"You have a name?"

"Her name is Wrenna Adelie, but they call her Adelie," Myka said. "How is she, Artie?"

"She won't leave the piano," Artie said. "But since she knocked Claudia out, she's been…"

"Whoa, whoa, she knocked Claudia out?" Pete demanded.

"Some sort of energy transfer," Artie said. "Claudia's fine. We're both fine. Any other information?"

"Nothing on the artifact so far," Myka said. "So far we're just elbow-deep in her file. She's a troubled, sick girl, Artie."

"I'll keep that in mind," Artie said. "I expect updates when you have them."

And the Farnsworth snapped shut on his end.

"Great," Pete said. He crossed the doctor's office and peeked out the tiny window. "No sign of that doctor fellow."

"He doesn't seem like he likes his job much," Myka said.

"Can you blame him? You saw this place," Pete said. "What else are you learning about our girl?"

"There's just… so much sadness, Pete."

_06/2010. Patient suffered a break at the midline of the humerus secondary to fall from second-story window. Patient remains catatonic. Patient's arm was casted. Cast will be removed 6-8 weeks following satisfactory X-ray exam. Patient placed into soft restraints._

_09/2010. Patient spoke spontaneously following removal of cast. Radiologic tech reported her as saying, "No" and "More." Patient did not repeat herself when asked. The midline humerus break has been completely repaired._

_04/2011. Patient attacked another patient. Psychotic episode lasted 22 minutes and responded to 10 mg Haldol IM push q 2x. Patient nonresponsive. Patient taken to the soft room. Self-injurious behaviors continue. Patient placed in soft restraints. A woman with the same name as patient's mother (per birth certificate) was found in Hamburg, Illinois after being arrested for drunken driving and possession of marijuana. Woman claims not to have a daughter. Photographic array produced negative results._

_05/2011. Catatonia broken. Patient spontaneously said, "Piano." Patient was subsequently taken to the piano. Patient wept._

_07/2011. Patient fascinated with window in the soft room. Patient persists in biting fingers. Placed in soft restraints overnight._

_09/2011. Patient required 25 stitches after persisted in playing with window in soft room. Maintenance staff and psych techs unaware as to how patient could injure self – glass had been glazed from the outside and .5-inch-diameter steel bars had been installed along every 1 inch of glass. Patient placed in hard restraints._

_10/2011. Patient spontaneously spoke. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Piano. Please. Sorry" and then repeating "Sorry" until psych tech asked her what she needed to apologize for. Patient appeared confused and disoriented._

_12/2011. Patient spontaneously sang. Following dinner on Christmas Eve, patient played "The First Noel" and sang, fluidly and flawlessly. Following the song, patient was inconsolable._

_04/2012. Patient fascinated with windows. Refuses to move away from windows in dining hall, nurses' station, bathroom, playroom, etc. Staff confused because patient is reported to have no usable vision._

_06/2012. Patient suffered three-hour psychotic episode. Broke window in the nurses' station. Required 12 stitches. Following medical intervention (5.0 mg Haldol) patient began babbling and screaming. Patient placed into hard restraints._

_08/2012. Patient uttering spontaneous syllables; otherwise incoherent. Endlessly fiddles with fingers. Stands in front of windows. Self-injurious behavior continues. Psychotic episodes are no longer responding to 5.0 mg Haldol IM. Patient no longer has observable wake-sleep cycles. Piano playing has become erratic, interrupted by psychotic breaks._

"Pete, she's losing control," Myka said, looking up. "Or getting worse."

"So… she's fascinated with music and windows?" Pete asked, mentally reviewing what Myka had told him. "What do we have that combines those two?"

The door banged open before Myka could respond, and Dr. Wilson-Farrell reappeared. "Nasty bit of a life, isn't it?" he asked without pretense. "Ten years she's been here – ten years she's had no meaningful interactions. Soon as she's eighteen we ship her out to the long-term adult facility in Downers Grove."

"Do you know what events preceded her arrival here?" Myka wanted to know. "It says here that a CPS agent brought her. How did they find her?"

"A neighbor saw a broken window in the basement of the house next door," Dr. Wilson-Farrell said. "She went over to investigate, thinking that a neighborhood vandal had struck again. When she looked in through the window, she saw the girl."

Pete turned away from the doctor's diplomas. "And the search for her parents?"

"Unsuccessful. Like I said, until she disappeared outa here, nobody cared who she was."

"Can we see where she stayed?" Myka asked. "It might help us to… gather some clues."

The doctor snorted. "If you say so. She's blind, non-verbal, and illiterate. It isn't like she was leaving a whole lot of _clues_ around."

He stuck his head out the door. "Hey, Marcia!"

A psych nurse with a helmet of blond hair appeared in the doorway. "Can I help you, Doctor?"

"These are the Secret Service agents," the doctor said, putting special emphasis on "secret" and "service." He sat down in his desk chair. "Could you show them to Ward 15?"

"Of course, Doctor." Marcia smiled. "Right this way."

* * *

"She has a name," Artie said as he closed the Farnsworth. "Adelie. That's your name, isn't it? Adelie?"

The girl's fingers paused on the keys in the midst of some Tchaikovsky. She flicked her eyes at the door leading out of the Warehouse.

Claudia looked at Artie. "Adelie," she said. "Adelie, I'm Claudia."

"And I'm Artie," Artie said. "Now we're all introduced."

"Piano," Adelie said.

"That's right, that's our piano," Artie said. "Are you hungry?"

"Piano."

"Yes. That is a piano."

"Piano." With that, she bent her head over the piano and began playing again.

"We know you're from Illinois," Artie said. "We know that you stay in a special hospital there."

"Piano."

"And you play the piano there." Artie's voice was soft, kind. "And we're not mad that you're here. We just want what's best for you."

"Piano." She was getting more insistent.

"We know they hurt you there," Claudia broke in.

Artie gave her a _look_.

"Well, we _do_," Claudia said. "We know it's scary."

Adelie turned to look in Claudia's direction. She held out her hands, blatantly showing the bruise bracelets. "Sorry."

"No, no, sweetheart," Claudia said, and she wrapped her arms around the girl.

"Sorry. Sorry," Adelie whimpered into Claudia's chest.

"No, sweetheart, shhh," Claudia said.

"Sorry!" Adelie screamed. Her frantic hands grabbed onto Claudia's jacket.

"Shh," Claudia repeated helplessly.

The girl's heartbeat was frantic, like a sparrow caught in a trap. Her hands beat senselessly against Claudia's shoulders.

Artie stepped forward, ready to grab the girl if necessary. Claudia shook her head _No._

"Adelie," she said, trying to keep the fear and worry out of her voice, "I know you're scared. And you're hungry. And tired. Would you like a cookie?"

"Piano."

"Yes, and then you can play the piano some more. We promise." She stood up, taking Adelie's hands in hers. "Come with me."

"No, no, _no-no-no-no_." Adelie panicked, her eyes going wild. She clawed the air, and, finding nothing to grab onto, began to scream, beating her hands against her head. "No-no-no—_no-no_-_no… no… NO!"_

Claudia's eyes went wide. She could feel terror sweeping over her. Her chest felt tight. She was too scared to move. Adelie's screams were taking her back to her time in the mental hospital – reminding her of things she thought she'd put in the past. She felt like she was choking. The room was spinning again.

There was a _crack_ of blue light. Claudia closed her eyes and whimpered.

"Claudia, it's okay," Artie's voice said, breaking through her thoughts. "I Tesla'ed her."

Claudia let out a long breath. The girl was crumpled on the floor. "Artie… you…"

"You saw her," Artie said. "She was getting hysterical."

"She's never going to trust us again!" Claudia cried. "She doesn't trust anyone anyway, and then you _shocked_ her!

Artie grabbed her shoulders. "Calm down," he said.

"No, Artie!" Claudia protested, aware that she was sounding crazier by the second. "She trusted us, and you broke that trust. You don't just _shock_ people!"

"Do I have to Tesla you?" Artie set the gun on the desk. "We're going to take her back to the B and B and let her sleep it off. _We don't have any answers_ _right now_."

He scooped Adelie off the floor.

Claudia stared at the place on the floor where the girl had been, tears building in her eyes.

"Are you with me, or not?" Artie demanded.

She wiped her eyes and followed him out of the office, out of the Warehouse.

* * *

Pete and Myka found Artie in a chair at the dining room table that night. Pete closed the door behind him. "We're back," he said.

"Did you bring me any more information?" Artie didn't look up from his notes.

"There's nothing, Artie," Myka said. "She showed up at the institution when she was five, and she's been there ever since. Growing more and more psychotic, more and more dangerous. Focused on music and windows."

"Windows," Artie said, looking up. "Windows?"

"Fascinated by them," Pete said, and set the copy of Adelie's file on the table. "So fascinated that she breaks them whenever she has the opportunity."

"Where is she now?" Myka asked. The B and B was far too quiet.

"Upstairs with Claudia," Artie said.

"What are they doing?" Myka was even more confused.

"I hope they're still both sleeping," Artie said.

"Wha-?"

"The girl got upset," Artie said, looking directly at Myka. "I had to Tesla her. Claudia got upset. Neither of them was in any shape to continue making good decisions, so they both went to bed. Our visitor is sleeping off the Tesla blast and Claudia is sleeping off the sedative I put in her tea."

He opened the file. "Thank you for bringing this back to me. We'll need to start looking for an artifact that might combine our young lady's talents with temporal shifts."

"Helen Keller's guide dog's harness?" Pete suggested.

"Helen Keller never had a guide dog," Artie said.

"Fine," Pete said, holding his hands up. "Guess I'm out of guesses."

"You _sedated_ Claudia?" Myka was still stuck.

"I had no choice," Artie said.

"You _always_ have a choice," Myka said.

She left Artie poring over the girl's file and hurried up the stairs.

The light in the hallway poured into Claudia's open door, and Myka caught her breath.

In the dim light, the two girls curled up on the bed looked like statues, like a painting. Claudia was closest to the bedside lamp. Her face, even in sleep, looked tense, as though she was having a bad dream. She was muttering something.

The Warehouse's newest visitor was on the farther side of the bed. Her eyes flicked back and forth under her closed lids, and she let out a soft, pained _mewing_. Her hands reached out for something that wasn't there.

Myka was about to enter the room, to wake the girls from their obviously-tortured sleep…

… when Claudia, as though responding to the girl's cries, rolled over and took the girl's bloody-fingered hands in hers, pulling the tiny dark-haired girl closer to her.

And in another breath, it was as though neither of them had ever moved. They were perfectly in tune, asleep.

It didn't make Myka worry any less, but it was something.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Can I first just say how much I LOVE this show? I simply can't stop watching it. I got caught up on Season 4 while I was at work today. It's just AMAZING. It fills the hole in my black, dead heart where the rest of "Firefly" is supposed to be. Somewhat. :)

Also, I'm so wowed by all the readers, reviewers, and followers! You guys are awesome! Thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Joshua? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I am at work."

"Then…?"

"You're dreaming."

"Oh. Incredibly comforting."

"Most girls would be flattered to have their big brother take an interest in their lives."

"I'm not most girls."

"Obviously."

"Are you here about…?" Claudia gestured to Adelie, who was sitting in the corner – corner? Since when were there corners in dreams? – at a piano. "Wait, my dream has a piano?"

"Couldn't very well get her in here without one," Joshua said.

"I… I know that song," Claudia said, turning towards the girl at the piano.

"_Fur Elise_," Joshua agreed.

"It was the second thing I ever learned to play on the piano," Claudia said.

"The first was…"

"Joshua! I only played it four hundred times! _The Entertainer!"_

"How could I forget?"

Claudia looked over at Adelie. "Joshua, what are you doing here? Do you… _know_ her?"

"Does anyone know her?"

"Great, now my brother's a riddle."

"I'm like a sphinx."

Adelie said something as she leaned into the piano, her words carried away by the music.

"What did you say, sweetie?" Claudia asked.

"_Hurt_," Adelie repeated.

"Joshua – what do I…?" Claudia turned back and her brother was gone. "Great. Dream magic. He's like Mrs. Frederic."

"You rang?"

Claudia jumped. "You can do that in _dreams?"_

"I go where I'm needed," the well-dressed woman said.

"Do _you_ know her?" Claudia asked.

_Fur Elise_ started over.

"Inasmuch as I know everyone," Mrs. Frederic said. "We are, after all, all related."

"Great. My brother's an enigma, you're even _more_ of an enigma… it's like this dream is my life, only… dreamier."

"Maybe you should listen to what she says."

"Um, okay," Claudia said, and turned back to Adelie. "She said _hurt_. Like, her head? Where she fell? Or… her wrists? Or…?"

Mrs. Frederic was gone.

"Great. Anybody else?" Claudia waved her hands in the air.

The dream-world did not respond. Adelie started over. Then the song slowed, as though her fingers were frozen on the keys. There was a long pause, and then another sound replaced the music – Adelie was gasping, choking for air.

Claudia ran over to her. "It's okay. It's okay," she said, but she was unsure of who she was trying to calm.

The girl clawed at her throat, wheezing and gasping. Each breath was a painful _honk_ and the too-pale skin at the base of her throat retracted deeply. Every time she breathed she seemed to be taking in less and less air. Her blank eyes were wild.

"It's okay. It's okay," Claudia kept repeating. "Oh, God, it's okay. Breathe. _Breathe!"_

Tears streamed down her face as she pulled the girl's hands away from her throat. "Breathe, sweetheart, _breathe_."

Claudia tried to mirror slow, even breathing. It wasn't working. "Come on, Adelie – breathe for me."

The girl's lips were going blue, and her fingers slowly unclenched. It wasn't as though she was calming… instead, she seemed to be giving up.

"Adelie, breathe," Claudia whispered. "You have to breathe. You _have_ to."

Adelie grabbed at the neck of her pajama top, her fingers fumbling at the collar. She pulled it down a fraction of an inch, and then reached up again to her lips as though she could force herself to breathe.

In that fraction of an inch Claudia could see bright, inflamed, red skin. She propped Adelie up against her with one hand and pulled down the girl's collar farther.

"Oh, God," she whispered. "Adelie – what…?"

It was a bright red starburst, spreading across the girl's chest.

"It's from the Tesla," Claudia realized. "Oh, God, it's from the Tesla!"

"_Hurt_," Adelie whispered, and her eyes rolled up in her head as she collapsed against Claudia.

* * *

And then she was shaken awake. "Claudia, get up!" Myka said firmly. "I need your help!"

Her eyes flew open as she realized that the gasping-choking-wheezing had carried out into the real world.

Myka was kneeling next to the bed, rubbing her knuckles against Adelie's sternum. "Adelie, stay with me!"

Adelie gasped and her chest retracted in.

Claudia rolled out of bed and ran to the door. "_Artie!_" she screamed.

"Claudia, what's going on?" Myka demanded.

"The Tesla!" Claudia said, and gestured helplessly to the girl on the bed.

"What?" Myka looked confused.

Claudia ran back to the bed and yanked down the tiny girl's shirt.

"Oh, God," Myka breathed.

The starburst was even bigger in reality – covering nearly Adelie's entire chest in bright, scaly, fiery red tongues.

Leena appeared in the doorway. "What's…?"

"We need a first aid kit!" Myka said. "Preferably one with some oxygen!"

Artie was a step behind. "Claudia, did you…?"

She grabbed him by his shoulders. "_You_ Tesla'ed her! _You_ did this!"

"Oh, my," Artie said, seeing the starburst. "That's a Lichtenburg figure."

"A what?" Leena wanted to know.

"It's an erratic discharge of electricity in a person's body, generally seen after a lightning strike. I've never heard of it happening after a Tesla blast, but I suppose if there was significant…"

"Does it matter?" Claudia demanded shrilly. "She can't breathe!"

Adelie gasped and her back arched. She reached out blindly.

"Uh, okay. She needs… she needs something to counteract the electromagnetic energy in her body," Artie said, trying to think quickly. "Something… uh… like a neutralizer. But not like neutralizer – it would kill her. Oh, my. Leena – we need…"

"She needs the gloves," Myka said. "Clara Barton's gloves!"

"She's not sick," Artie said. "She's in shock."

"_Just do something!"_ Claudia felt like the room was spinning, like she couldn't breathe either.

Adelie reached out again, eyes wild.

Claudia grabbed the girl's hand, unable to watch her suffer alone.

"Joseph Priestley's soda water!" Artie exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "It's at the Warehouse, in the Liquids and Unguents Section."

"No, it's in the pantry," Leena said.

"We will review what's wrong with that statement once this crisis is past," Artie said. "Go, go!"

Leena scrambled out the door.

"Breathe, Adelie," Claudia whispered. "Please just breathe."

She looked down at Adelie. The girl had her eyes closed as she fought to breathe. Her lips were purple and her raw, bloody fingertips were blue. The gasping had gotten quieter, slower, but it wasn't a good sign.

Leena reappeared a moment later with a big green glass bottle. The top was sealed with bright red wax, which she picked away with her fingernail. "Okay, Artie, I've got the soda water. What do we…?"

"Pour it on her," Artie directed. "Onto her chest. Try to get the starburst if you can. And watch out, Claudia…"

Leena upended the bottle and the fizzy water surged onto Adelie's chest.

There was a fierce _crack_ and a burst of light. Claudia felt her hand start burning.

"_Hurt. Hurt_," Adelie gasped.

The light faded, and there was a squirming blind girl on Claudia's bed, drenched in soda water. Adelie pushed herself into a sitting position, still clinging fiercely to Claudia's hand. "Piano," she said. "Piano."

Claudia felt herself tear up. "Yeah, Adelie. We'll get you the piano."

She threw her arms around the girl and hugged her tight.

"Piano," Adelie said into Claudia's shoulder. "Piano. Please."

* * *

Half an hour later, Adelie was at the Warehouse's piano, rocking back and forth as she played something baroque. There was a strange peace on her face that had not been there previously, and her eyes flicked from left to right as though she was scanning the room. Her soda-water-infused pajamas had been replaced by hand-me-downs of Claudia's, a purple-and-blue striped shirt, a pair of jeans with the legs rolled up, and three pairs of bright blue socks inside a pair of too-big purple sneakers. Claudia kept her eye on the girl – everything seemed normal, but life in the Warehouse had a tendency to be anything but.

"She looks like a mini-Claudia," Pete commented.

"Her PJs were all wet," Claudia said. "She had to wear _something_."

"It's cute," Pete said. "Shows me what it'll look like when you have kids."

"I don't want to talk about _that_," Claudia said. "Sit down and start reading."

"_Reading?_ I get to _read?"_

"Yes," Claudia said tensely. "Sit down. Shut up. Open book."

Pete scowled as he picked up a thick tome. "Remind me what I'm looking for again?"

"Anything that combines music, windows, time travel or geographic switching, and… poor reactions to electromagnetic bursts," Claudia reiterated.

"The faster the better," Artie added as he came in with more books. "She might stop breathing again at any time."

"Oh, swell," Pete said, rolling his eyes. "Nothing like a little pressure."

At Artie's glare, he said, "I'm reading. I'm reading."

"Do we know why the Tesla affected her that way?" Claudia asked in Artie's general direction, refusing to look at him.

"I've heard of it altering molecular composition," Artie said, moving to the card catalogue. "But I've never _seen_ it."

He turned back to Claudia. "You have to know that if _I'd_ known…"

"You still would have done it," she said, her words angry and crisp.

"She was dangerous!"

"She's _blind_ and _alone_ and _scared out of her mind!"_ Claudia screamed.

The music stopped.

"Stop," Adelie said. "_Stop_."

They both fell quiet.

"Piano," she said, as though it was obvious, and then she started playing again.

* * *

"Uh, okay," Pete said an hour or so later. "What about _La Bolduc_'s violin?"

"No, not unless our blind pianist is also fluent in French," Artie said. "Plus, it's here in the Warehouse."

"Going back to work."

Claudia's rapidly-moving fingers came up with the next possibility. "The portrait of Julia Etta Crane's mother."

Artie considered that. "It's not here," he said slowly. "And a lot of it fits. Musical… extremely strong female presence… if only we could get the temporal and geographic shifts in there…"

"That hospital Myka and I went to had some pretty ugly pictures on the walls," Pete said. "One of them could have been a picture of someone's mother."

"At this point it's all we've got to go on," Artie said. "You and Myka have to go back to the hospital."

"Yes!" Pete leapt out of his chair. "No more reading!"

"There are worse things to be than educated," Artie said.

"Like hungry," Pete said. "I'll grab Myka and we'll grab some doughnuts on the way out of town."

"Bring me a bear claw!" Artie called after him.

Claudia turned away from the computer to look at Adelie. The girl's head was tilted as though considering some far-off sound, but her fingers kept spidering over the piano's keys. The music was still baroque and lovely, but it sounded odd, as though…

"It's in a minor key," Claudia said, and stood up. "In E-flat minor. Something's changed."

She stood up and walked slowly towards the piano. "Did you change it?" she asked.

Adelie didn't respond. The music sped up.

"Artie, you said she's a savant," Claudia said, her eyes still trained on the girl. "She doesn't know how to change. She just knows how to repeat. She can't change it. It's not how her brain works."

"No, that's true," Artie said. "The music is imprinted in her brain. But I suppose it's possible, after years playing the same songs… she could have learned how to extrapolate. It's unlikely, but it's possible."

Adelie's fingers jerked on the keys, the melody squirming uncomfortably. It now sounded like a drunk on stilts wobbling through a glass factory, as though heading for destruction.

Artie hurried over to his desk. "In the files Myka brought back from the hospital, it says that her piano playing becomes erratic before she goes into a psychotic episode."

"Oh, no," Claudia murmured.

Adelie's hands flew off the keys as though pulled by a puppeteer's mad strings. She howled and shoved herself backwards, away from the piano, landing on the floor. Her hands slapped against her ears, over and over, and a low keening noise escaped from her mouth. It was eerie and terrifying.

Claudia immediately got down on the floor in front of her. "Adelie, it's Claudia. You're right here in the Warehouse. You're safe. The piano's here. We're here. You're safe."

Artie moved towards the desk, looking for the Tesla. Claudia's words seemed to have no influence on the girl, who was raking her raw fingers repeatedly over her wrist, scraping away at the skin there as she howled.

"Do _not_," Claudia hissed at him, her eyes still on Adelie. "Unless you've got a hell of a lot more of that soda water to revive her when she stops breathing."

He stopped.

"Adelie," Claudia said. "Adelie, we're right here. You're safe. You can fight this. You can come back. I'm here. We're here. Fight it, Adelie. Come on, sweetheart, _come on…"_

She grabbed Adelie's hand, trying to keep the girl from scratching her wrist raw.

A jolt of energy cracked through her –

_Used to be a real girl. Used to be a girl, a real girl._

_They said I couldn't be a real girl and have the piano._

_If they take the piano away, she dies. I die. We die._

_Real girls aren't blind. Real girls have homes. Real girls can't –_

_Piano. Piano._

_No-no-no-no HURTS!_

And then she was back in the office, flat on her back, feeling like she'd been kicked in the chest by a truck.

"Tell me you didn't Tesla her," she croaked up at Artie, who loomed over her like a worried face of God.

"No," Artie said, and helped her sit up. "No, I had nothing to do with this. And before you get all crazy…"

Claudia was already on her knees, moving towards the girl, trying to ignore the burning, raging pain in her chest.

"… she's just asleep," Artie said. "Still breathing."

"Thank God," Claudia whispered, and the pain reared up and smacked her. "I'm just going to… lay down… for a year."

And she closed her eyes and let the pain take her.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm on a roll! This chapter is a little bit shorter... but it's been a long, complicated day and I'm still at work for another hour.

Reviews are love! Enjoy!

* * *

"Great," Myka groused. "Can't believe we have to come back here… for what? A picture of somebody's mother? Sounds like a long-shot and a half."

"Myka, it was either this, or keep reading, and my eyes were bleeding," Pete said as Myka pulled up next to the guard shack.

"That's odd," Myka said. "No guard."

"Maybe he got a better job."

"And the gate's open," Myka said.

She drove cautiously through. "Are you getting anything?"

"Other than hungrier, no," Pete said.

Myka turned off the car and for a moment they studied the psychiatric hospital. "No lights on," Myka said eventually, "and it's getting dark."

"We have to go check it out, don't we?"

"Yeah."

They crept up the walk, gun and Tesla drawn. The silence surrounding the psychiatric hospital was complete – no movement anywhere, nothing to suggest that the county's sickest children were housed within.

"I don't like this," Pete said.

"Me neither." Myka went up the front steps and jerked her head, directing Pete to open the door.

He did, and they whisked inside.

"Whoa," Pete said.

"Vibe?"

"Vibe city."

"Wasn't there…?" Myka stared at the end of the long entrance hallway, trying to figure out what was missing. "A bookcase! There was a bookcase there!"

"Gone," Pete said.

"Hello?" Myka called.

No response.

"Let's go to the doctor's office," Pete suggested. "He'll know if something weird is going on."

"Unless he caused it, Pete."

"So, what? He teleports his sickest patient… to _us_? How does he know we exist?"

"He doesn't."

"You saw her file, Mykes – he was ready to get rid of her."

"He didn't seem overly fond of her, no." Myka crept down the hallway. For an institution supposedly filled with children, it was oddly silent.

They reached the doctor's office. Myka knocked. "Dr. Wilson-Ferrell? It's Agents Bering and Latimer. We have a few more questions for you."

No response.

"Okay," Myka said, and she flung the door open.

The room was completely empty. No more desk or ugly chair, no more diplomas on the wall. The room was bare, with no sign that anyone, let alone a doctor managing the psychiatric care of a hundred children, had ever been there.

"Well, that's disturbing," Pete said.

"We have to check the rest of the hospital," Myka said.

"I bet the rest of it's…"

* * *

"… empty," Myka said flatly.

Artie peered at the Farnsworth. "Empty?"

"No doctors. No nurses. And most importantly – no kids."

"Nothing?"

"Even the furniture is gone. It's like no one's ever been here."

"Oh. And the portrait?"

"If it was here, it's not now," Pete said.

"We called the local police, and they're on their way," Myka said. "But we don't have any evidence that we're anything but trespassers. For all we know, they could tell us this place has been abandoned for years."

"But who did we meet with yesterday?" Pete wanted to know. "If this place was a… a mirage, or something… how come we were able to interact with it so authentically? I mean, there was the doctor, and the guard guy, and the nurse… and all those kids we saw…"

"We have one piece of evidence," Artie said. He rummaged around on the desk and came up with Adelie's files, which he held up to the Farnsworth. "The files. You brought me back our guest's files, and they're still here. And very much real. As is she."

"Artie, we thought the doctor might have wanted to get rid of Adelie," Myka said.

"Guess it turns out he really wanted to get rid of himself," Pete muttered.

"So you're sure she's still there?"

"Yes," Artie said. "Abundantly."

"And she hasn't…?"

"Disappeared? No. I can see her right now. She and Claudia are playing Take a Nap."

"Again?" Myka looked pointedly at Artie.

"Not my fault this time, Agent Bering," Artie said. "Hurry up and figure out what brought our mysterious visitor to us. She's getting even more unpredictable."

And the Farnsworth snapped shut.

* * *

Claudia opened her eyes. She was standing at the end of a long, dim hallway, looking down at the scummy tile floor. Her unfamiliar surroundings smelled like a combination of vomit, Elmer's glue, mashed potatoes, and bleach.

Immediately her ears were assaulted by a barrage of noises – grunts, whistles, clapping, repeated syllables, raucously unconstrained laughter, and someone very persistently repeating _Not today, Not today, Not today_. And beyond that, piano music.

Instinctively she moved toward the music, rounding a corner.

"No, we haven't been able to convince her to eat yet today." A blond woman was standing at the end of the hallway, talking on the phone. She was blond and short, wearing purple scrubs. "No. She bit Anton. No, I'm positive. We offered her everything… no. I'm not calling the doc on this one. I don't want to give her the tube again."

Her voice softened, and she leaned her head forward, rubbing her forehead distractedly with one hand. "She doesn't deserve it. She's confused. She's unhappy. Hell, I would be too if I was stuck in a place like this."

She straightened her shoulders. "Yeah. I'll tell him. Hopefully we can hold off tube feeding until the morning. Thanks, Betty."

She hung up the phone and walked in Claudia's direction.

Claudia shrank against the wall, but it didn't seem to matter – the woman walked by her as though she didn't exist.

The hallway emptied out into a big room full of chaos. There were kids everywhere, dressed in pajamas or sweatpants. One boy sat near a window, rocking back and forth violently as he flicked his fingers against his chin. Two girls were sitting on chairs near a potted plant; neither moved. On the floor a young man writhed and squealed with what seemed to be happiness. A tiny girl was pushing a toy truck across the floor lackadaisically.

And still the music persisted. Claudia walked through the big playroom and into a smaller, darker room.

Adelie sat with her back to the door, completely occupied. An upright piano was pushed into the corner and she was playing, her body held ramrod straight.

"Adelie," the nurse in purple scrubs said as she pushed past Claudia and into the room, "I talked to Betty on the phone. She wants you to eat this sherbet."

Adelie didn't move.

"It's so good, Adelie," the nurse said. "Cold and tasty. I know you're hungry. You've been playing for such a long time. Let's take a break and have some sherbet. It's your favorite – raspberry."

The music didn't stop, but it changed – going down half a key, into something minor. Claudia thought she saw Adelie's shoulder jerk, and she braced herself for what she thought was coming next.

But Adelie opened her mouth while her fingers spooled across the keys.

The nurse laughed. "You know you're supposed to feed yourself, little bird. But all right. Just this once."

She picked up the cup of sherbet and spooned some into Adelie's mouth.

The music resumed in the major key and Claudia breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a _crash_ from the other room, followed by a scream of pain.

"Never a dull moment," the nurse said, rolling her eyes. She put the sherbet cup back on top of the piano and hurried out.

The music halted, and Claudia had the strange sensation that Adelie was looking at her – never mind that the girl's back was still to her.

Adelie bowed her head, and then started playing again, switching to a new song. The music was light and sweet.

"I know this one," Claudia said. "It's on that mix tape I made for Artie and Dr. Calder."

She crossed the room to Adelie and sang softly. "_Time after time… I tell myself that I'm… so lucky to be loving you… so lucky to be the one…"_

It was an oddly perfect moment, suspended as though by spun sugar in the midst of a snow-globe. Everything felt _right_.

Claudia took another step towards Adelie and started. The girl's wrists were wrapped in thick white gauze. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered. "What happened?"

Adelie turned to stare in Claudia's direction, and as her blank eyes searched the space over Claudia's head, Claudia could see the red imprint of the Tesla burn spiraling up the girl's neck, reaching for her ears. It was almost as bad as the girl's black eye and the still bleeding lip. "_Hurt_."

"To the n-th degree," Claudia said. "Oh, sweetie. We have to get you out of here."

* * *

"Pete!"

"You find something, Mykes?"

"Come see."

Pete appeared in the doorway of what had once been a dormitory. If Myka recalled correctly – and she usually did – it had been shared by four girls, one of whom was now the Warehouse's problem. It was empty, just like all of the other rooms in the hospital, but there was something different about it.

"What I want to know is, where are those cops? Must be a lot of crime in Great Cooper Lake," Pete said as he crossed the room.

"Probably a lot of escaped mental patients," Myka said. "Look at this, Pete."

She pointed to the closet at the far end of the room.

"It's a closet."

"Yeah, but I don't remember _that_."

Pete peered into the closet. "Holy artifact."

"You can say that again."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and favorites! You guys are awesome!

Enjoy!

* * *

"A _Lichtenburg_ figure? That's incredible." Vanessa Calder gave Artie an approving glance through the Farnsworth screen. "Sometimes you get all the luck."

"Oh, you know me," Artie said. "Girl falls into my Warehouse and she turns out to be the first person I've met in _thirty years_ who has a negative reaction to a Tesla blast."

"It's so unusual," Vanessa said. "Usually they show up after somebody gets shocked by lightning… or bites a power line. _That_ was a long night."

"Well, so far there's been nothing about this girl that's normal," Artie said with a rueful chuckle. "Kanner's syndrome, an absolute savant with optic neuropathy. And she's got some sort of energy transfer going on with Claudia. It's all very… odd."

"A Kanner's savant?" Vanessa whistled and leaned back from the Farnsworth in awe. "Oh, Artie. They are the rarest of the rare."

Artie looked over at the two girls, sprawled on the floor. Claudia had her mouth open and a string of drool was running down the side of her face. Adelie was curled up in a ball. "Vanessa."

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to come here? And meet Adelie?" Artie was surprised as the words fell out of his mouth. He felt impulsive, rash, and a little dizzy.

"Oh." Vanessa flushed. "Oh, Artie, that's very generous."

"It could be good for both of us," Artie said, aware that he was rambling. "You… you could meet your first Kanner's savant… and I could figure out what the hell she keeps doing to Claudia. And… um… we could have dinner."

"I _would_ like that," Vanessa said. She thought, her eyes darting off to one side as though considering the amount of work she still had to do. "Oh, what the heck. Armadillos with leprosy can just research themselves this week!"

"Wonderful," Artie said. "I'll… um… make reservations."

"Don't have all the fun without me," Vanessa said.

The Farnsworth beeped.

"That must be Pete and Myka," Artie said. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Until then," Vanessa said, and disappeared.

Artie closed and reopened the Farnsworth. "What?"

"Artie, does this look familiar?" came Myka's voice. "We found it in the closet in Adelie's hospital room."

The Farnsworth screen bobbled as Myka turned it downwards.

"What… bring it closer," Artie ordered.

Myka obliged.

"It's a music box," Pete said from off-screen.

"_Tell_ me you didn't play it."

"You act like this is our first rodeo," Pete said, sounding a little miffed.

"Pete totally wanted to crank it up," Myka said with a laugh. "No, we didn't play it, but we opened it."

Pete lifted the lid, being careful to hold it up with his purple-gloved hand. The music box had inlaid mother-of-pearl mosaic patterns on the outside, but the inside was unfinished wood. A metal frame was fitted into the middle of the box, holding a thin wire handle parallel to the base of the box. The handle was connected to a small glass cylinder, and the cylinder was looped through…

"What is that?" Artie asked, lifting his glasses.

"We think it's a roll of parchment," Myka said.

"Hmm," Artie said. "That's rare. Most music boxes I've seen have a metal cylinder with raised knobs that rotates, creating a tune as the cylinder passes by a stationary arm."

He looked over at the computer. "I'll have to do some research to figure out where this music box could have come from."

"Should we neutralize it?" Pete asked.

"Uh." Artie thought about it. "If it's connected to Adelie… after what happened with the Tesla, I'm going to err on the side of caution. No. Just bring it back here so I can take a look at it."

"Okay," Myka said.

"But if anything seems off about it, neutralize it and we'll deal with the consequences later."

"You got it."

The Farnsworth flipped shut and they were gone.

Artie watched the girls sleep. He checked on them repeatedly, concerned that neither of them was waking. Claudia seemed to be fighting off something; her fists moved fitfully and several times her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she drooled. Adelie was still, but each time Artie checked on her he could see the Lichtenburg figure changed, growing, spreading across her neck. It was just inches shy of touching her right ear, and what had previously just been a red patch had become scaly and scabbed.

It looked like it hurt like hell.

Research turned up nothing about a music box with glass inner workings or a parchment music scroll. The computer was likewise unhelpful about Lichtenburg figures as a result of Tesla involvement.

"You are a mystery, my dear," he said.

To a casual observer, it would have been impossible to determine which girl he directed his remark to.

* * *

"Adelie," Claudia said, "show me why we're here."

Adelie was still at the piano. Beautiful music was spilling out from beneath her fingers. The bright white gauze on her wrists seemed to dance in the dim light of the hospital's music room. Her breathing was timed exactly to the music – at every musical juncture she let out a small _huh_. It didn't seem odd or forced; in fact, it felt _right_. Everything felt so _right_.

It worried Claudia.

On top of the piano the cup of raspberry sherbet was melting.

"Adelie, show me why we're here," Claudia repeated.

"Piano."

"I know. This is your piano. What else can you show me?"

Adelie turned her head as though to ask _What else __is__ there?_

But then she slid off the piano bench and stood hesitantly. Her hands, no longer comfortable, no longer dancing over the keys, flapped awkwardly up towards her shoulders, tapping them as she shuffled forward.

Claudia followed her out of the music room and watched as Adelie found her way through the chaotic room full of screaming, rocking, tapping, crowing children and out into the hallway. The blind girl kept one hand on the wall as she slowly walked down the hall. No one seemed to notice them, despite the presence of nurses, aides, and other patients. The place was a veritable bedlam and yet Adelie walked calmly, slowly, delicately towards the stairs.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look in Claudia's direction. "Piano," she said.

"Later."

Adelie sighed as though bereft of a lover, and slowly started to climb the stairs. Her fingers tapped the banister as she went, and Claudia could practically hear the music resonating from the girl's fingertips.

At the top of the stairs Adelie hesitated. The smell of bleach was overpowering, and from a distance Claudia could hear the familiar refrain – _Not today, __not__ today, __not__ today…_

Adelie squared her shoulders, as though going into battle, and put her hand onto the wall as she walked down the hallway. At the far end of the hallway she turned left. Claudia followed behind.

The room was small, and though it appeared to be a bedroom, it seemed impersonal. Four identical beds were arranged in a rough square to the left of the door. Each bed had a two-drawer dresser, but that was the extent of the furniture. To the right of the door were a large, open closet and a sink, mirror, and soap dispenser. Four toothbrushes were lined up on the counter. In the closet, four different sections had been marked off, labeled with black marker on masking tape.

Adelie found the sink with her hand and walked its length, finding the closet. She burrowed into the right side of it, pushing aside the hanging clothes, reaching for the back wall. Claudia watched as she tapped the back wall, slid down to the floor, and began wiggling at a panel of the floor. Adelie's nimble fingers pulled out the panel and set it gently aside. She reached into the dark recess below, pulling out a dark, square-shaped object –

"Claudia?"

Claudia whirled around. There, in a place she definitely wasn't supposed to be –

"Dr. Calder?"

* * *

And just like that, Claudia jerked awake. She was suddenly conscious of the drool running down the side of her mouth. "Dr. Calder?" she repeated as she wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Hello, Claudia. It's good to see you again."

"Were you in my dream?"

Vanessa smiled. "Was I?"

"Um, I don't know. Artie! Adelie had something, something she kept in her room at the hospital."

"I know," Artie said. "A music box."

"Wait, you _know?_ She just showed it to me." Claudia sat up, feeling a little woozy. "Is it real?"

Artie nodded. "Pete and Myka have it. They're bringing it back here so we can take a look at it."

"Adelie. Where's Adelie?"

"She's having some tests done," Vanessa said. "You know, I take out Artie's appendix once a year and the rest of the time that room doesn't get any attention. All those beautiful machines just sitting around, waiting for data."

"You're… running _tests_ on her?"

"I asked if she wouldn't mind letting me take a peek at her brain."

"And she was okay with that?"

Vanessa smiled. "She was a bit hesitant at first, but I told her the tests would be painless and over quickly, and then she could come back here and have some cookies and play the piano."

Claudia was confused. "Really?"

"She was extremely docile," Vanessa said. "She seems very eager to please."

She turned to Artie. "I'll head back down there to check on her. I've just about finished the ointment, too. You were right about that Lichtenburg figure – first time I've seen one that bad."

"I'll go with you," Claudia said, still feeling uneasy.

"Of course," Vanessa said. "Be happy to have you. From what Artie tells me you two are very close."

"You could say that."

"I've got a lead on the rosary," Artie said, "so I'll stay here. Let me know if you need any help."

"Sure thing," Vanessa said.

Claudia followed Dr. Calder out of the office and down the stairs towards the medical suite. The Warehouse seemed far too big, far too awkward, as though something was _off_.

_Like a fifteen-year-old blind savant lost among the artifacts?_ she thought before she could stop herself.

"Were you there when Artie Tesla'ed Adelie?" Vanessa asked. Her voice sounded odd, tinny and too-echoing.

"Yes," Claudia said. "She was upset."

"It must be very upsetting to be in a strange place," Vanessa said as they reached the medical suite. "But Artie wouldn't have done it if he didn't have her best interests in mind. You know that, don't you?"

"She got _burned_. She was just scared, and then she ended up almost _dying_."

"It's a very rare reaction," Vanessa said. "I've never seen it. Artie's never seen it. The good news, though, is that we came up with an ointment to treat the rash. Some of Joseph Priestley's soda water mixed with powdered neutralizer. Should knock it out in no time."

She pushed open the door. "I think the MRI should be done. I wanted to check and see if her neural pathways are…"

The room was empty. The MRI was whirring and sharp images were still floating over the computer screens, but the patient was gone.

"Shit," Claudia said without thinking.

"Adelie?" Vanessa called. She hurried over to stop the MRI and then strode into the room, checking to see if the small girl was hiding somewhere.

"She's not there," Claudia said, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as she gave name to the fear she'd felt on their walk down. "She's… gone."

_And now she's loose in the Warehouse_.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I'm in love with this story... I'm so glad all of you are too! Enjoy!

* * *

"We're back!" Myka sang as she opened the door to the office.

"Good," Artie said without turning around. "Show me the music box."

"We're glad to see you too, Artie," Myka said.

Artie waved his hand dismissively.

"Where's our guest?" Pete asked.

"Dr. Calder is…"

"Ooh, Vanessa's here?" Pete exclaimed, and he clapped. "Artie's gonna go on a _date_…"

"Show me. The music box," Artie repeated.

Myka brought a brown paper bag over to Artie's desk. She snapped on a purple glove and slid the music box out gently.

"Very interesting," Artie said. "These markings… unique. I can't place them. Open it."

Myka carefully raised the lid.

"This looks even more complex than I thought," Artie murmured. "We'll have to take it apart, I think. Carefully."

"_Artie!"_ Claudia burst back into the office. "Artie, she's gone!"

"What?" Artie spun around.

"She got out of the MRI," Vanessa said, hurrying in behind her.

"She is _loose?_ In my Warehouse?"

Myka put the music box back on the desk. "We have to go look for her."

"We have to _find_ her," Artie corrected.

"She's blind and confused – is she really going to go very far?" Pete asked.

"Pete, think of all the music-related artifacts we have," Myka said. "Any of them could have gotten her attention."

"I am _so_ sorry," Vanessa said.

"It's not your fault," Artie said.

"Um, yeah, it kinda is," Claudia said. "You were the one who took her out of the office and then _left_ her alone. In an MRI machine. She probably didn't even understand what was going on. Of _course_ she's going to run."

"Claudia," Artie said sharply.

"I'm sorry, Artie – wait, no, I'm not. She is blind, yes, but she's also just a confused, lost little girl. She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know any of us from a hole in the wall, and all of the things she's ever known or ever loved are at a psychiatric hospital in Illinois. We can't leave her alone. We can't _test_ her or _Tesla_ her and expect that she's just going to be okay with that," Claudia said. "Yes, she is a rare specimen of neurological beauty…"

At that, Vanessa blushed.

"… but she is also a _kid_. A kid who doesn't deserve to be tortured any more than she already has been. Artie, you saw her bruises," Claudia went on. "They weren't from cuddling. In the dream…"

She paused for a moment, fighting off some unnamed emotion. Then she forged on. "In the dream, she had other injuries. Again, not from cuddling. And yes, she fights back, but think about it – if you couldn't see, if you couldn't have meaningful conversations because your vocabulary was six or seven words, if you were suddenly thrown into a random location with a lot of strange energies pounding at your head, _you would be scared too_."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Artie said softly.

Claudia took a deep breath. "Artie, how could I _not? _Minus the blindness… and the musical savant thing… and the mental… whatever… she's _me_."

"She is _not_ you," Artie said.

"Spin it any way you like," Claudia said, "but girl genius plus no parents plus mental hospital plus not-a-very-good-time equals… Claudia Donovan. Or Adelie Reagan-Arden."

"It was different with you," Artie said.

"No, it wasn't," Claudia said.

"You have us," Myka said.

"I have you _now_. Adelie has nobody. They don't care about her at the hospital, right?" She looked over at Pete and Myka.

"The doctor referred to her as someone who has a 'nasty bit of a life,'" Myka said softly.

"She's never had anyone who cared about her," Claudia said. "I don't know _why_ she's here and I don't care. I don't think she has a nasty bit of a life, so if I can make her time here better than… than wherever she came from, then that's what I want to do."

She pointed to the music box. "That's hers. That and some clothes, it's all she has. Well, that, and all of the music in her head. And… whatever freaky energy thing she keeps doing to me. We _owe_ it to her figure out what's going on, and we owe her to make her life better."

"Fine," Artie said. "Can we do that _after_ we figure out where the hell she's gone?"

* * *

They took a quickly-written list of musical artifacts and split it into five parts, spreading out quickly. Soon the Warehouse was ringing with voices, all calling Adelie.

Claudia moved to the artifact she felt would appeal to Adelie's interest the most – the violin of David Oistrakh, a Russian violinist who had played Tchaikovsky's violin concerto throughout the massive German bombing of the Battle of Stalingrad. Oistrakh's violin was reported to give a player the ability to keep playing music throughout _anything_. Case files indicated that previous owners had played throughout a house fire, an armed robbery at a bank, a mugging by a gang, and a taking a firecracker to the head. And Claudia knew, from doing inventory of artifacts around it, that it sang. It lit up like a flash bulb in her head whenever she was anywhere near it. If anything was going to attract Adelie, she was sure it was Oistrakh's violin.

Sure enough, as she rounded the corner to the aisle holding Oistrakh's violin, there was Adelie.

The girl stood in front of Oistrakh's violin, one hand raised to it as though she could feel the glow radiating from it.

It looked like a painting.

_We'll call it Blind Girl with Invincible Violin_, Claudia mused.

"Adelie," she said quietly, "it's Claudia."

Adelie didn't turn her head, but she tilted it towards Claudia.

Instantly music flooded Claudia's head. "Whoa."

"Piano," Adelie breathed, and in that moment Claudia knew a single word could convey so much pain and love and beauty and anguish. Adelie _wanted_ to say that she couldn't live without music, that everything any composer had ever played was dancing through her brain without end, and that every single musical artifact in the Warehouse tapped up and down her spine like two crazy escapees from a production of _Riverdance_.

But all she had was "piano."

Adelie finally turned her head, bringing her hand down from the violin. The violin stopped glowing, and the music flowing through Claudia's head stopped. As she got closer to Adelie, she could see the Tesla burn was looking worse – scabby, flaky, infected.

"Piano?" Adelie asked, and held her hand out to Claudia.

"Come back to the office and you can play the piano," Claudia said. She took Adelie's hand in hers.

No energy jumped the gap between them, and Adelie walked slowly, carefully next to Claudia, tapping her shoulder with her free hand.

They were walking the length of the Oistrakh aisle when Adelie slowed. She tapped her head, a quizzical expression on her face. "Stop. Please."

"She won't run any more tests on you," Claudia said, instinctively knowing what Adelie was asking.

Adelie nodded as though she understood. "Piano," she whispered.

* * *

In the office she gravitated to the piano, sat back down and began playing what Claudia recognized as Tchaikovsky's violin concerto.

Claudia flopped back into a desk chair and took out her Farnsworth. "Rally the troops," she said to Artie as soon as he popped up on the screen. "She was with Osistrakh's violin. We're back in the office."

"What was she doing with it?" Artie demanded.

"She was… looking. And yes, grumps, I know that she's blind. But if you can come up with a better term for it, I'll eat that hat you wear sometimes."

"You better not," Artie said. "That's my only hat."

"My point exactly." Claudia flipped the Farnsworth closed.

She picked up Adelie's file and started flipping back through it. On a notepad she was making a list of Adelie's words, based on what various nurses and psych techs had written. _Help. Sorry. Stop. Please. Go. Away. Piano. More._

Vanessa re-entered the office, Artie close behind her. "I got the MRI results," Vanessa said, holding up a tablet. On the screen, images of Adelie's brain pulsed and glowed. "I think it might help us understand why she can't say much more than that," she said, tapping Claudia's list. "The speech center, located here in the Broca's area, is vastly under-formed. It looks like a congenital deformity. And her optical nerves are degraded as well, although there's something strange about them that I can't quite make out from here. Everything else seems to be humming like crazy. Watch."

She tapped the tablet screen and Artie and Claudia watched as red and blue pulses of energy passed through the brain. "You see that? That was when I played a piece of music for her in the scanner. She hears it _here_…" – she tapped the screen – "… and _six_ seconds later her fingers start moving, which you can see _here_. She knows the piece before it's even over."

Vanessa shook her head. "A female Kanner's savant… she is literally one in a billion."

Myka and Pete came back in. Pete sauntered over to the music box. "So, are we ever going to crank this thing up?" he asked.

"I want to take it apart," Artie said. "And I'm pretty sure we've all learned that playing with the artifacts isn't the best way to get them to cooperate with us."

The music stopped abruptly. Adelie turned towards Pete, who was carefully prodding the music box with one finger. "Stop," she commanded.

Pete jumped. "Um, sure. Sorry."

Adelie held her hands out. "Please."

Pete looked at Artie. "Should we…?"

"It's hers," Claudia said.

"And Alice's mirror still belongs to Alice, but we don't let her _play_ with it," Pete said.

"Perhaps we should separate the two," Artie suggested. "We'll need to take the music box apart here, in case we need to neutralize it. Can you take Adelie back to the B and B? She needs to have the ointment put on her Tesla burn, and I'm pretty sure Leena will have dinner ready."

He turned to Adelie. "There's a piano there."

"Piano."

"Eat first, then piano," Artie said. "Vanessa, would you like to accompany us to dinner?"

"I'd like that very much," Vanessa said.

"Pete, Myka, we'll come back here to take the music box apart," Artie directed. "I want to do a little more research, see if there's anything out there that matches what we've got."

They moved out of the Warehouse in a unit. Claudia led Adelie. Vanessa and Artie held hands, which caused Pete no small amount of glee. "You see? You see? They're sitting in a tree."

"Sometimes you're about six years old," Myka said.

Outside the sun was setting. Adelie looked up at the sky and wrested her hand free from Claudia's, waving her arms in the air. She giggled happily and spun around and around and around. Her long hair flowed out behind her, Claudia's too-big sneakers making awkwardly smashed circles in the dirt.

"More, more, more, more," she chanted in a rapid-fire staccato, a bright smile spreading across her face. "More, more, more."

* * *

After dinner, at which she ate precisely seven bites of mashed potatoes and two chicken nuggets, Adelie sat at the B and B's piano and played for an hour and a half. She stopped when she was drooping over the piano, half-asleep, and only then did she move away from the piano with Claudia's gentle tugging.

"Bedtime," Claudia said quietly, helping Adelie stand up. "But first, some sort of delicious ointment that smells like a combination between feet, Play-Doh, and grape juice. Dr. Calder says it's all the rage for girls who want to not have a pulsing, infected Tesla burn."

At that she actually got a laugh out of Adelie, a short, quick chuckle.

"Atta girl," Claudia said. "There's a feisty little person in there. I knew it."

Leena had washed Adelie's pajamas, and they were on Claudia's bed. Claudia handed them to Adelie, who seemed to know instinctively what to do with them. Once she had her pajamas on, she reached out for the bed and crawled into it.

Claudia went out into the hallway and called for Vanessa. The doctor came up the stairs with a Crock-Pot in her hands. Vibrant purple goo was bubbling in the Crock-Pot. "Ointment time," Vanessa said. "Hi, Adelie, it's Dr. Vanessa."

Adelie looked towards the door, alarmed. She tapped her head. "Stop. Please."

"No, I'm not here to do any more tests," Vanessa said. "I'm here to help you with that nasty burn on your chest."

"Hurt," Adelie said.

"Well, we're going to change that." Vanessa set the Crock-Pot on the bedside table and pulled on a pair of gloves. "Little bit of this super ointment, you'll feel almost as good as new."

She scooped up some of the ointment and moved towards Adelie. "I'm going to rub this on your chest, all right?"

"Stop," Adelie said, and she held out her hand.

Claudia sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand. "Good girl. Thank you for asking." _And not having a massive freak-out_, she finished in her head.

With Adelie's cooperation, Vanessa was able to smear the goopy purple ointment all over the Tesla burn. The girl winced as Vanessa touched her, but she didn't pull away.

As soon as Vanessa was done, Adelie lay down on the far side of the bed, rolled away from Claudia and the doctor, and put her hands up over her ears. In a second or two her breathing was slow and even.

Vanessa stood for a moment, considering Adelie. "She trusts you," the doctor said after a while. "And I don't think she trusts a lot of people."

"I think she's had good reason not to," Claudia said. "Can you blame her?"

"No," Vanessa said, shaking her head. "No, I can't. And I can't say I'd be nearly as sane as she is after spending my entire life in an institution."

"I made her laugh," Claudia said suddenly. It seemed important.

"Did you?" Vanessa smiled. "That's beautiful."

"Yeah," Claudia said as Vanessa picked up the Crock-Pot. "Yeah, it kinda was."

* * *

"Artie," Myka said as she held up the music box's alignment roll with a pair of tweezers, "this isn't parchment. It doesn't have any oil spots on it, and there's no buckling that would be evident after use and wear."

"What do you think it is?" Pete asked, peering over Myka's shoulder.

Myka considered the roll. "If I were to hazard a guess…"

"Please, Agent Bering, we're all growing old," Artie said, deep into the card catalogue.

Myka turned it with the tweezers. "Artie, I think it's… I think it's human bone."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I don't even know where to start. Just watched the mid-season finale episode and there are SO MANY QUESTIONS in my head. Guess I'll just write more fanfic... anyway, enjoy!

Also, I love story ideas, so if you'd like to contribute an idea, I would definitely give you a shout-out!

* * *

Long after Claudia heard Myka and Pete and Artie come back from the Warehouse, long after Artie and Vanessa had gone somewhere and then returned, their sweet couple-y giggles rising up the stairs, long after the B and B had settled into sleep, Claudia was awake. She sat cross-legged on her bed, fingers flying over her laptop's keyboard.

She had started the night with good intentions. She would look for Adelie's parents for an hour, no more, and then she would sleep. She was exhausted.

But for some reason she couldn't stop. She hadn't found anything, but she couldn't stop.

And her search had gone farther than that. Instead of finding Adelie's parents, she had instead found endless pages of social services reports – on Adelie, on Dr. Wilson-Farrell, and on alleged events of abuse at the Great Cooper Lake Children's Psychiatric Hospital.

One report called into question the skills of a nurse named Anton – a name Claudia remembered from the shared dream as a nurse who was bitten by Adelie. Anton Mann was a thirty-six-year-old registered nurse who also had a felony rap sheet with more than sixty-five separate convictions on it. Due to various legal loopholes and failings on the part of a variety of elected officials, Anton had not only been able to get a job as a nurse, but he had avoided any serious prison time.

His chief crime? Child abuse.

"Oh, Adelie," Claudia whispered. She was sure now that the bruises she'd seen, the split lip Adelie had in the dream, were from Anton.

Or any of the other felons who worked at the hospital. There were fourteen. Their crimes included everything from practicing medicine without a license to check forging to soliciting a minor to possession of marijuana. More than one of the psych techs had been convicted of child abuse.

_And they take care of some of the sickest kids in the world,_ Claudia thought. _Kids who can't defend themselves. Kids who will never be able to speak up about what's been done to them._

Of which Adelie was obviously only one.

Adelie had a long history with social services. Apparently they were called every time she had to go to the hospital. Over her ten-year confinement at the residential hospital, she had been taken to the emergency more than twenty-five times, the majority of the trips occurring in the past four years.

Which, not by any coincidence, was the amount of time Anton had been working at the facility.

The list of Adelie's injuries was suspiciously lengthy, and Claudia couldn't see how social services hadn't gotten wind of what was happening. Broken arm after jumping out of a second-story window. Four separate occasions requiring more than 10 stitches. One incident had required more than sixty stitches, an overnight stay in the hospital, and IV fluids and antibiotics.

Every time the explanation was the same – _She's autistic. She did it to herself_.

Claudia doubted that.

The list went on and on – fevers over 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Infections from pulled stitches, one so bad that it had required the placement of a semi-permanent intravenous line in Adelie's arm to deliver antibiotics over an eight-week period. Infected fingers, said to be the result of biting. A scraped cornea. And always, always, bruises everywhere.

_She's autistic. She's blind. She did it to herself._

"You're smarter than that," Claudia whispered to Adelie.

Adelie's other records from the hospital were filled with outburst, catatonic spells, and Haldol administrations. Haldol was a way-strong "chemical restraint," usually used on only the most dangerous and the most psychotic patients. Adelie had apparently endured it day after day after day, in addition to actual physical restraints.

Vanessa's words slipped through Claudia's mind - _I can't say I'd be nearly as sane as she is after spending my entire life in an institution._

It still didn't answer one of Claudia's chief questions, though. Prior to showing up at the institution, where had Adelie been?

There was an address listed in Adelie's file, apparently from the house where she'd been found. It was in the Chicago area, a single-family home in a neighborhood of similar small single-family homes. And, according to real estate listings, it was empty. It had been for more than fifteen years. So Adelie had never lived there. It had never been _her_ home.

The neighbor woman who had discovered Adelie was still living next door to the house where she'd found the girl more than 10 years before. Claudia wanted to talk to her, but she forced herself to wait. It was three in the morning in Illinois, and nothing made people less talkative than being woken up in the middle of the night.

When she thought she could take no more, Claudia found the treatment reports from a psychiatrist who had "treated" Adelie. The woman no longer worked at the Great Cooper Lake Children's Hospital – in fact, she had never had a medical license and she was being housed in a federal women's prison while awaiting trial for abuse of a minor and practicing medicine without a license. And as far as Claudia could tell, "Dr." Hanover had _only_ treated Adelie.

_Suspicious as hell._

And the notes weren't much better. Claudia hoped that "Dr." Hanover was given to hyperbole and fits of fantastically fictional interludes, because it was too painful for the records to be true.

_As it turns out, catatonia __is__ responsive to pain! Patient reacted at Level One on the ESM… moved hands at Level Two… screamed at Level Four. Following ESM treatment patient spontaneously babbled, rocked, tapped hands to her head, and attempted to find the door, seemingly desiring to leave the room._

Claudia looked for the definition of ESM and her heart dropped to her toes when she found it – ESM stood for Electronic Stimulation Machine, a favorite treatment of Dr. Hanover's based on Adelie's records. Further research – taking less than a minute – showed Claudia that the ESM was pseudo-science, never proven to create anything other than post-traumatic stress disorder, and it had never been FDA certified. It was basically a series of electrical wires attached to a patient that delivered as much of a shock as the "doctor" desired. And, unlike the more modern electro-current treatments, it was _extremely_ painful. One report, written by a skeptical psychiatry graduate student who had tested the ESM on himself and his friends, likened the use of ESM to licking exposed electrical wires or sticking a fork in an electrical socket.

And this "doctor" had used the ESM over and over on Adelie, "hoping" it would break her catatonia, cause her to speak spontaneously, or even cure her autism.

_She's in prison for a reason_.

The rest of the faux doctor's notes were no better:

_ESM treatment today. Level Four was required before patient responded. Patient sobbed. Patient's speech was erratic, slurred, anxious. Patient repeatedly banged on door to treatment room. When the door would not open, patient bit her fingers. When threatened with further ESM treatment, patient sobbed and banged head against door. Charge nurse reports that patient continues to bite self and often refuses to sleep. Patient has been continually found in the closet of her shared dormitory room._

_Patient attempted to leave hospital grounds today. ESM treatment commenced at Level Four._

_Patient refused to eat again today. ESM treatment commenced at Level Three._

_ESM treatment today at Level Two produced erratic speech. When asked to speak more clearly, patient screamed. ESM treatment then commenced at Level Three. Patient screamed "Go! Go! Go!" Patient was then congratulated and treatment ended._

_Patient attempted to hide from treatment session today._

"Gee, I wonder why," Claudia remarked sarcastically.

_I advised charge nurse to place patient in hard restraints overnight to prevent patient from going into closet overnight, and told charge nurse not to change restraint order unless I gave word._

That was the last note. It explained the bracelets of bruises on Adelie's wrists – hard restraints hurt like crazy and were worse than handcuffs in some ways.

_At least handcuffs are sexy sometimes_, Claudia thought. _Hard restraints are never sexy._

Now she _knew_ she was too tired. Handcuffs are sexy? It sounded like a Pete kind of statement.

She yawned and closed the laptop. Adelie's parents had been a mystery for ten years, and they would be a mystery for another night.

* * *

"I want the two of you to go back to Illinois," Artie said as he came into breakfast the next morning.

A biscuit in his mouth, Pete looked up indignantly. "Artie," he said around the biscuit.

"Swallow," Myka commanded.

"Claudia found some more leads," Artie said. "There's a fake doctor in prison who may have triggered an electrical reaction in our visitor, which might explain the extreme Tesla reaction. And the woman who discovered Adelie ten years ago still lives in the house next door. She might know where the music box came from."

"When do we get to play it?" Pete wanted to know, grabbing another biscuit.

"Not until we figure out what it is," Artie said.

There was a scream from upstairs.

"Artie!" Claudia hollered.

"I'll go," Vanessa said, and she scrambled away from the table.

"We need to find her family," Myka said.

"Some people don't want to be found," Pete said, considering the fruit bowl. "Do you really think that people who abandoned her to a psychiatric hospital are really the kind of people who are going to just come back into her life and take on the responsibility of raising a severely disabled child?"

He reached past Myka and grabbed a strawberry from the bowl.

It was an oddly prescient thought to come out of Pete's mouth, and Myka and Artie stared at him. Leena came in with a plate of scrambled eggs. "What?" she asked.

"Pete just had an actual thought," Myka said. "It's just a little odd when it happens."

She stood up. "Come on, Mr. Thinker. There's a non-doctor and a non-neighbor waiting for us in Illinois."

There was another scream.

"No rest for the wicked," Artie cursed, and headed up the stairs.

Adelie was in front of Claudia's door, her arms held up in front of her face frantically as though she was afraid of being hit. "No! No!" she screamed.

"Adelie, it's me," Claudia said. "Claudia. You're safe. You're fine. We're here. You're safe."

Artie took in the scene as quickly as he could. The Tesla burn had reached Adelie's right ear, and what he could see of it seemed to be pulsing with infection. Two of her fingertips were bleeding.

"Help," Adelie screamed. "Help!"

"Adelie, we're here to help you," Vanessa said. "It's Dr. Vanessa. I'm here with Claudia."

Adelie clawed at her forehead. "No! Stop!"

She looked around frantically, her eyes wild. She screamed and slapped herself frantically, hitting her ears over and over.

Her head turned back and forth, as though she was looking for an escape. She kicked out at Claudia, who stumbled forward into the hallway, and ran past Vanessa, screaming. Adelie stumbled forward, slamming into the wall. The window rattled in its frame.

It seemed to grab Adelie's attention – she leaned forward, propping herself up against the wall, and reached up for the window.

"Grab her!" Vanessa cried.

Artie moved forward, but he was too late.

Adelie swung a fist at the window and shrieked as it went through. Glass rained down into the hallway. Adelie put her head against the wall and panted, breathing as heavily as if she'd just run a marathon.

"I'll get my kit," Vanessa said.

"I'll get a broom," Artie said. "Claudia, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Claudia said. "She doesn't kick that hard."

Adelie slumped to the floor in the midst of the glass shards. She looked like a broken, floppy doll.

Claudia stepped closer. "Adelie, it's Claudia. I want to check and make sure you're all right. I'm going to touch your hands."

"Please," Adelie breathed.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead on her knees as Claudia carefully held her hands.

"Sorry," Adelie said.

"It's all right," Claudia said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're so scared. I know it can be difficult to wake up in a place you're not used to."

The majority of the glass shards seemed to be fairly small, but there were a few larger shards that had embedded themselves into Adelie's palm. Claudia winced. It was so disturbing to her that Adelie seemed not to feel anything.

Vanessa returned with her medical kit. "How is she?"

"She's… she's beyond pain," Claudia said. "It's strange."

"We'll get the glass out of her hands and she'll be all right," Vanessa said. "Although the Tesla burn is looking even worse."

She knelt next to Claudia and took a pair of tweezers from her kit. "Easy there, sweetheart. It's Dr. Vanessa. I'm going to take the glass out of your hands."

Adelie shrieked.

"Shh, sweetheart," Claudia pleaded. She pinned Adelie's hands against her knees.

Adelie screamed, writhing against Claudia's grasp.

"I have a sedative in my bag as well," Vanessa said quietly. "Do you think…?"

"I'm not thinking right now," Claudia said as she struggled to keep Adelie's hands from moving. Tears streamed down the redhead's face. "Please don't ask me to think right now."

"Okay," Vanessa said. "Little pinch, Adelie."

Carefully the doctor tweezed the glass out of Adelie's hands. The bigger pieces came out easily, but several smaller shards stuck fiercely and required some digging.

Adelie screamed throughout the procedure, despite Claudia's ongoing stream of reassurance. "It's okay, Adelie. She's just taking the glass out. She's taking it out. Little piece. Okay. It's out. Good girl. Thank you. Good girl. Okay. Next piece. Little bit bigger. You're doing awesome. Good girl. It's out. Shh, sweetie, almost done."

Vanessa tweezed the final piece out. "All done, Adelie."

"Good girl," Claudia said. She released the girl's wrists and leaned in, smoothing Adelie's hair back from her face, pressing her forehead to Adelie's. "Shh, good girl. Good girl."

Vanessa put the tweezers back into the kit and stared for a moment at the supplies within. She had a single-dose syringe of sedating medicine, and her fingers trailed over it as she thought.

"Just make sure it's not Haldol," Claudia said, her forehead still pressed against Adelie's.

"It's not," Vanessa said. Obviously the decision had been made. "It's not."

She took out the syringe, primed it, and carefully drew up Adelie's sleeve. "One more pinch," she said, and jabbed the needle into the pale skin of the girl's upper arm.

Adelie turned her head to look at Artie, who was standing at the top of the stairs with a broom. Her mouth opened as though she was about to say something, but then her eyes closed and she slid down the wall as though she was liquefied.

Vanessa closed her kit. "I need to take a look at her infection," she said. "It needs to be drained."

"And we need to figure out what her connection is to that music box," Artie said. "She's not getting better – she's getting worse."

* * *

"Well, well, well," the false doctor drawled as Pete and Myka entered the visitation room of the women's prison. She was a completely ordinary-looking woman, with no feature about her that would cause anyone looking at her to remember her. It was probably what had enabled her to pass as a doctor for so long. Nothing about her caught anyone's attention. "You're a handsome fella, aren't you?"

"Um, sure," Pete said.

"Carrie Hanover?" Myka asked.

"That's me," she said with a wide smile.

"I'm Agent Bering and this is Agent Latimer," Myka said. "We're here to ask you some questions about a patient at the Great Cooper Lake Children's Psychiatric Hospital who you may have interacted with."

"I interacted with a lot of patients at that hospital," the woman said, her eyes still on Pete.

"That's funny," Myka said, sitting down across from her. "Because your treatment records seem to be almost obsessively fixated on just one patient."

She set down the treatment files Claudia had printed and pushed them towards Carrie Hanover. "Would you like to explain this?"

"Explain what?"

"Your obsession with only one patient."

"I'm a psychiatrist, Agent… Bering, was it? My job is to focus on patients in order to change their mental states and help them live more satisfying lives."

"You're not a psychiatrist," Pete said. "You know that and we know that."

"I may not be a psychiatrist by the traditional model," Carrie Hanover said, "but nevertheless my methods help people."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you tortured a girl," Myka said.

Carrie looked over the records. "Oh, yeah, I remember her. The autistic girl with the vision issues and the obsession with music. She was crazy."

Myka felt an unnamed emotion bubble up inside her. It was odd, but she couldn't bear to hear anyone talk about Adelie that way. Adelie was a person, a very real person who had very real struggles, and a false doctor had just reduced her to two sentences; she'd written Adelie off like everyone else. "She's crazy, so you decided to perform some untested electric treatment on her?"

Carrie shrugged. "Wasn't like I had anything to lose. Wasn't like she had anything to lose either. She's a ward of the state and it's not like she's ever going to leave a residential setting. What's the sudden interest in her?"

"She's sick," Pete said, striding towards the table. "And she's not getting better. We think your so-called treatment methods broke something in her brain."

Carrie held her hands up. "Look, buddy, medicine is an experimental process. People have to test treatments before treatments become commonplace."

"And that justifies administering electrical shocks to a child?" Myka asked.

"Yeah. Someday they're going to name a treatment after me," Carrie said. "Just wait."

"I can hardly bear the suspense," Pete said.

"Your electrical stimulation treatments were administered to the patient every day," Myka said, tapping the files. "Was there anything about the treatment that could have caused serious internal injury?"

"It's not like that," Carrie said.

"What is it like?"

"It's designed to work on cases of catatonia," Carrie said. "The premise behind the treatment is that electrical stimulation will break the circuits of certain synapses in the brain that cause catatonic states."

"But it doesn't work like that," Myka said.

"Listen, do you have a degree in biomedical engineering?"

"No, and neither do you," Myka pointed out.

"It works," Carrie said firmly. "And it's never caused anyone to _get sick_, so there must be something about this girl that you're not telling me."

"We've told you all you need to know," Pete said.

"You could be cute if you weren't so hostile," Carrie said.

"And you could be a doctor if you weren't so 'in prison,'" Pete said, using air quotes. "So just keep dreaming."

"Is there anything else you can tell us about this patient?" Myka wanted to know.

"Yeah, sure," Carrie said, giving Pete a glare. "She was obsessed with music. Spent all of her time at the piano. It was a substandard coping mechanism and we were trying to break the habit. And she was obsessed with something in her closet – every night they'd find her in there. Whatever it was seemed to be causing her to increase her self-injurious behaviors, so I told the nurses to keep her in hard restraints until she figured out how to stay out of the closet."

"You know she's a savant, right?" Myka could take the woman's flippant attitude no more. "That's why she loves music. It's because it's how she communicates. It's all she hears."

"Savant syndrome is a myth," Carrie said.

"Not according to her diagnosis," Myka pointed out.

"Kanner's syndrome? Please. That's an antiquated term that should have been thrown out in the 1950's. The fact that they're still using it to diagnose children is laughable. The same with savant syndrome. Autistic kids are all the same – it's all about the attention."

"I think we're done here, Mykes," Pete said.

"Me too," Myka said. She closed the files and stood up. "Thanks for your help."

"That's it?" Carrie Hanover looked disappointed. "What happens now?"

"You go to prison because you impersonated a doctor," Pete said. "And we go back to South Dakota and try to figure out how to fix what you broke."

"You really need to get laid," Carrie Hanover said.

"Just go," Myka said to Pete, ushering him out of the room.

"Sometimes it's weird not being craziest ones in the room," Pete muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thank you to the reviewer who asked if I was going to include Steve. I must admit that I didn't start writing the story with the thought of including Jinks, but after being asked, I realized there was definitely an excellent place to stick him in. If you see anything else you'd like to add to the story - let me know!

Enjoy!

* * *

Artie came into the kitchen, gnawing on an oatmeal cookie. He was carrying a packet of papers, which he set down in front of Claudia.

She was at the far end of the table, tapping away at her computer. Vanessa had convinced her to leave Adelie for at least a few minutes, so the doctor could drain the infection caused by the Tesla burn and administer first aid to glass-spattered hands. But Claudia wasn't happy about it. "What's this?" she asked Artie.

"It might be a piece of the puzzle," he replied.

Claudia looked over at the papers. "The glass-cutting compass of Andrew Cyprus Russborough?"

"He was a famous art thief," Artie said, sitting down at the table. "He was one of the first to use a glass cutter to gain access to galleries and museums."

"Why do you think it's the compass?"

"Our last thought, the portrait of Julia Etta Crane's mother, was located at one of the Smithsonian galleries in Washington, D.C. And look at this part."

He pointed to the file. Claudia looked down. "It was a _sonar_ glass cutter?"

"The earliest version consisted of a tone-producing box powered by a hand crank, which sent out a high-pitched frequency that was high enough to shatter the glass. The compass had a brass knob and a brass cutting tube on it. The tube directed the frequency along the pane of glass and enabled Russborough to cut in an even circle."

"It says it's here in the Warehouse," Claudia pointed out.

"It is," Artie said. "I don't think Adelie uses the compass. I think she _is_ a compass."

"What's in those cookies?" Claudia asked.

"Think about it," Artie said. "One of her reports says she broke a window that was, for all intents and purposes, out of her reach. A window that had been double-glazed from the outside, and had bars along the entire length. She has small hands, but not that small."

"You think she…"

"Broke it with sound."

"What does that have to do with the music box?"

Artie shrugged. "I don't know."

Claudia thought about this, tapping the drawing of the Russborough Compass with her index finger. "Maybe they're two separate things. Maybe the music box… isn't even an artifact."

"A music box made out of glass and human bone?" Artie snorted. "If that's not an artifact, _I'll_ eat my hat."

"We need to play it," Claudia said.

"No, no, too dangerous."

"Artie – we need to have _her_ play it," Claudia said. "It's hers. She knows how to use it."

Vanessa came down the stairs looking tired. She set her kit on the table in the hall and came into the dining room. "I got most of the infection drained," she said, sitting down next to Artie.

He put his hand on top of hers.

"And she's still sleeping," Vanessa went on, brushing her hair off her forehead. "I'm glad, because I think she's in a lot of pain. She is such a fighter, though. God. Even _asleep_ she still tried to fight me."

At the end of the table, Artie's Farnsworth started vibrating. He reached for it and flipped it open. "What?"

"The fake doctor is a jerk," Pete's voice emanated from the device.

"Pete's just mad 'cause she hit on him." Myka's voice joined her partner's.

"The fake doctor is a jerk," Pete repeated, a little more strongly. "She made it very clear that she doesn't see Adelie as a person."

"She said Kanner's syndrome isn't a diagnosis, that Adelie's not a savant, and autism is just a cry for attention," Myka added. "And she was… I'm sorry, excuse the horrible pun… shockingly cavalier about the electrical stimulation treatment that she tortured Adelie with."

"She thinks she's going to be the next Freud," Pete said. "Or… whoever his torture-y cousin would be."

Claudia gripped the edge of the table hard, even though the offending doctor was thousands of miles away and in federal prison.

"Did you go by the hospital yet?" Artie asked.

"Not yet," Pete reported. "We're on our way to see the neighbor lady now, and we'll hit the hospital after we're done there."

"Do you think everything will be back in place, Artie?" Myka asked.

"At this point I don't know what to think," Artie said. "But based on the sheer amount of power it would take to create two separate hospitals – one without people and one with – I think you'll find that everything will be the way it was on your first visit. I'm still trying to figure out what caused the dual realities, but it's just one of the many mysteries we're investigating."

"Good," Pete said. "'Cause even though that doctor was an asshole, he was still better than going through that creepy empty hospital. It was like a video game… I half-expected to see Slender Man following us."

"Who?" Artie asked.

"Um, nothing," Pete said.

"We'll call you after we see the neighbor," Myka said.

"Good," Artie said, and closed the Farnsworth.

He looked over at Claudia. "Vanessa and I have reservations for lunch," he said. "Will you be all right here?"

Claudia nodded.

"Because… we can stay," he said. "I mean, it's not a big deal."

"No, I'm fine," Claudia said. "I think I might try to get some more sleep while she's knocked out… she dreams like crazy."

Vanessa stood up, but Artie stayed at the table, looking at her gravely. "Claudia."

"Artie, I'm fine," she said, refusing to look up from the computer screen.

"You've just been through a lot lately," he said. "The whole business with the metronome, and taking Steve's pain, and now this girl falls into the Warehouse and…"

"I said I'm _fine_," she repeated, still staring at the screen as though she could cause it to implode.

"Okay," he said, clearly knowing when he was being dismissed.

He'd gotten as far as the front door before Claudia called out, "Artie?"

Artie turned. She stood in the hallway in her mussed pajamas, running one hand through her hair. "What?" he asked.

"Promise me… promise me we're going to make things better for her," she said softly.

Artie hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Then he squared his shoulders and strode towards her. He took her head in his hands and tipped her forehead towards him. He kissed her gently. "We're going to make things better for her," he said. "I don't know how, but I promise we are not sending her back to that hospital."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stepped back. "And if Agent Jinks calls, you tell him he was supposed to check in every forty-eight _hours_."

She smiled, and the sadness in her eyes abated somewhat.

"Get some sleep," Artie said.

She was at the bottom of the stairs when he said, "Claudia?"

"What, old man?"

"There's no shame in loving people."

"Yeah, yeah," she said.

"Claudia. I'm serious."

"I know. Now go have lunch with your girlfriend before she forgets why she came out here."

* * *

"Can I help you?" Joyce Bradley opened her door as far as the safety chain would allow.

"We're from the Secret Service," Pete said as he and Myka raised their badges.

"Oh, my goodness!" the older woman exclaimed. She was in her sixties with close-cropped gray hair and piercing gray-blue eyes. She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose as she leaned in to look at the badges. Then she jerked her gaze up to the agents. "Is the President here? Is he coming to visit?"

"Um, no, ma'am," Pete said. "We're actually on a special assignment."

"We'd like to ask you some questions about an incident that happened ten years ago," Myka said.

"I don't know if I can remember that far back," Joyce Bradley said with a smile.

"You found a little girl in the house next door," Myka said.

At that the smile dropped from her face. "You'd better come in," Joyce said.

She asked them to sit in her living room while she prepared refreshments. She was in the kitchen for a very long time, and several times dishes clattered a bit disturbingly to the floor.

Pete busied himself looking at Joyce Bradley's photographs. She seemed to be the creative-photography type, and her works were lined up in minimalist black frames. The photographs were populated mostly by two good-looking, broad-shouldered men with dark hair, a cheery-looking redhead woman, and an army of small, cute children, but there were two that interested Pete the most – one seemed to be a full family portrait with Joyce, a slump-shouldered, broad-smiling man with kind eyes who was obviously her husband, the two men, the redheaded woman, and, at the far side of the photograph, a beatific woman in a nun's habit. The other portrait featured Joyce and her husband, posed around a young man in a high-tech wheelchair. He was redheaded and had a huge smile on his face.

Joyce came back in while Pete was still looking at the photos.

"You have a beautiful family," Pete said to cover.

"Oh, thank you," Joyce said. "I hope you like lemonade."

She set a tray of lemonade and shortbread cookies on the coffee table. Then she sat down and wiped her hands on her knees. "Please, have some lemonade," she said.

Pete sat down next to Myka and reached for a cookie.

"I never thought… I never thought anyone would come looking for that girl," Joyce said. Her eyes focused on her family photos, as though she was reliving something painful.

"What do you remember about the day you found her?" Myka asked.

Joyce put one hand to her mouth. At last she spoke. "There was a vandal in the neighborhood. He wasn't really doing any damage, but he was shaking everybody up. Breaking windows, smashing mailboxes, throwing garbage cans into the street, keying cars… just an annoying punk. That house was empty. It's been empty forever. The MacAllans used to live there, but that was twenty years ago. They went back to Scotland. I was watering my flowers on the far side of the house and I heard something. I walked over towards the MacAllans' house and saw a broken basement window."

She took a deep breath. "I saw the broken window first, but I don't know how I didn't hear the girl crying. It was absolutely pitiful. She looked like no one had ever cared about her. She looked hungry. And terrified."

She buried her head in her hands and then looked up, squaring her shoulders. "My son… my Carson… he has muscular dystrophy. Every single event in his life has been hard-won. I thought I knew what suffering was… and then I met the Wren."

Pete looked at Myka, confused. Myka shoved the file over to him and tapped Adelie's first name – _Wrenna_.

"It was a perfect name for her," Joyce went on. "She had these little frail birdy arms, and she reached out immediately. She sobbed until I picked her up. She couldn't weigh more than thirty-five… forty pounds. Absolutely frail. Her legs were so stick-thin that she couldn't stand up."

"Do you know how she got into the basement?"

Joyce shook her head. "No."

"What happened after you found her in the basement?"

"I brought her back here. She was terrified. So scared. She just screamed and screamed. I tried to figure out what I should do… who I should call…" Joyce pursed her lips and brought one hand up to adjust her glasses. "She just sobbed."

Pete reached for another cookie.

"I have never seen a child so badly treated as that little girl," Joyce said.

"How did you find out what her name was?" Myka asked.

"This is going to sound absolutely insane, but she had a note in her pocket," Joyce said.

"Do you remember what it said?"

Joyce nodded. "I still have the note."

She stood up and walked over to the desk in the far corner of the living room, picked up a piece of paper, and brought it back to Pete and Myka. "I thought this kind of thing only happened in the movies," Joyce said.

Myka carefully took the note.

_She knows everything. She hears everything. Every time I look into her eyes I am faced with the knowledge of what I have done. She can no longer see me and that is my fault. I took her sight. Only monsters do that. Only monsters take away their daughter's sight. God strike me down if I lie – I love her too much to hurt her again. Please take my baby, because I know I will hurt her again. Her name is Wrenna Adelie Reagan-Arden. She loves music. I am so sorry. – Julie_

"This breaks my heart," Pete said.

"It broke mine," Joyce said. "How do you recover after reading something like that?"

She wiped tears from her cheeks. "It's been ten years and I still think of her every… single… day."

She looked over at the family pictures again. "My daughter… my daughter is a nun in a convent upstate. I asked her to take the Wren into her heart and to pray for her every day, to bring her cause to God. My daughter has been in the convent for eight years and every day I know she prays for the Wren."

"That's lovely," Myka said.

"It's the least I could do," Joyce said. "I'm just an ordinary woman… five kids who turned out all right, husband who loves watching baseball far too much... I do what I can for my church and my ladies' aid society, but ever since I met the Wren I know it's not enough. Tell me – what is she like now?"

Myka smiled and handed Joyce a photograph Claudia had taken. Adelie was at the piano in the Warehouse in Claudia's too-big clothes, a smile on her face and an almost-peaceful look in her distant eyes. Claudia had managed to catch Adelie with her head turned somewhat, so that the nasty Tesla burn wasn't obvious.

Joyce's hand flew up to her mouth again. "Oh, in the name of Our Blessed Mother Mary – look at her! She looks so happy! She's so beautiful! And she plays the piano!"

"She's a savant," Myka said. "She can play anything. It's amazing."

"Oh, Our Lady bless and keep her!" Joyce exclaimed. "And she's… she's with you?"

"She's staying with us now," Pete said.

"God sent you," Joyce said. "God sent you to help her."

"We're doing all we can to help her," Myka said. "I just have one more question."

"Of course, of course," Joyce said, her eyes rapt on the photograph.

"When you found her, she had the note with her… was there anything else in the basement with her?"

Joyce looked up, thinking. "There was… a music box. I remember trying to get it away from her, but she wouldn't let go of it."

"Do you know what song the music box played?"

Joyce shook her head. "No. She never played it. I only knew it was a music box because my grandmother had one that looked like it. Austrian… or maybe Swedish. Beautiful, though. Very European. Very Old World. I thought it was lovely."

She looked back at the photograph. "May I… may I keep this?"

"Of course," Myka said. "Thank you so much for your help, Joyce."

She and Pete stood, and Joyce stood with them. "Did they ever find her mother?" the older woman asked.

"Not that we can tell," Pete said. "But now we have a name – maybe that will open up the search."

"If you don't find her… please tell her that Nana would love to see her again," Joyce said. "That's what I called myself. Nana. I thought it was easier to say than Joyce."

"We'll tell her," Myka said. "Again, thank you for your help."

"God bless and keep you, agents," Joyce said. "I know He brought you to me today."

* * *

Claudia slept, tossing and turning in an endless maze of dream corridors. She started waking up when the walls of the maze began to vibrate, and came fully awake when she realized it was the Farnsworth in her pocket doing the actual shaking. "Hmmm?" she said, blinking as she flipped it open.

"Claud. Thank goodness. Artie's not answering."

"Jinksy?" she asked blearily, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"I'm coming home."

"What?" Claudia sat up. "I thought you were going to stay at the… the monastery until we figured the metronome out."

"I was," Jinks said. "Until I realized that I'm going to die from boredom if I stay here."

"But you're all one with the earth," Claudia said. "Meditating. No contact with the outside world. Guys in saffron robes. Selling stickers at the airport."

"Those are Hare Krishnas," Steve pointed out.

"Whatever," Claudia said. "Don't come home."

"What? Why?"

"We don't know if it's safe."

"You know what's not safe? Me, here at the temple. I've already made eight hundred little circles in the sand garden, and they told me if I couldn't learn to relax my raking that I was going to have to work in the kitchen."

"So?"

"So – I can't work in the kitchen!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not eighteen and I don't have a job at Arby's."

"Jinsky – I have no idea what you're talking about," Claudia said. "More so than usual."

"I'm coming home."

Claudia crossed her legs and propped herself up against the headboard. On the far side of the bed, as though responding to the light and movement, Adelie stirred. "Just be safe, Jinsky."

"What is… I mean, _who_ is that?"

Claudia tilted the Farnsworth so Steve could see Adelie in all of her tiny, Tesla-burned, savant self. "Meet Adelie."

"You adopted somebody? I'm touched that you missed me so much, but I've only been gone four days."

"Listen, Jinsky – _she_ adopted _me_. After she _fell_ into the Warehouse."

"What?"

"There, now you know as much as we do. Almost."

"What happened to her neck?"

"It's her neck… her chest… her ear… and Artie Tesla'd her. Apparently she's the first person in thirty years to react like this."

"You've been having fun without me," Steve said.

"Only the most."

Adelie blinked and rolled over. She reached out for Claudia's hand.

Claudia shifted the Farnsworth and took Adelie's cold fingers in hers. "Come home soon, Jinksy," she said. "Artie's having a date with Dr. Vanessa, Pete and Myka are in Illinois, Leena keeps asking me if I want scrambled eggs, and Mrs. Frederic keeps showing up in my dreams."

Adelie's other hand came up and took the Farnsworth from Claudia.

"Hey," Claudia said. "Not for little girls."

Adelie's face swam in the lens.

"Claudia?" Steve called.

Adelie pressed the Farnsworth against her ear.

"I don't know what she's doing!" Claudia said.

Adelie held the Farnsworth against her ear as though it was a shell promising audio tours of the ocean. Then a smile crossed her face and she pulled back, holding it upright in one hand as she conducted music in the air with the other. "_Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick_," she whispered, keeping precise time.

"Claudia?" Steve repeated, a little more uncertainly.

"I know, it's unsettling," Claudia said.

"No," Steve said, and he moved the Farnsworth so Claudia could see the metronome.

The pendulum was going back and forth at the same rate.

"_Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick_," Adelie whispered, and Claudia watched the pendulum sway back and forth, back and forth, in absolute rhythm with Adelie's syllables.

Then the girl slowed, "_Tick… tick… tick…"_ and the pendulum slowed with it. "_Tick…" _

Claudia felt the air in the room get heavy and the edges of her vision got hazy. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs and her heart felt like a neglected bass drum in a middle school band class. "Adelie," she grunted with one of her last breaths, and pinched Adelie's elbow.

"_Tick-tick-tick-tick_." Adelie resumed the original pace, counting off the pendulum's flicks.

"I lied, Jinksy," Claudia said as the room slowly stopped spinning. "Come home. Come home _now_."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** So, I experienced my first bout of writer's block with this story... and somehow I got through it. I think I know where I'm going now. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! You make my day so much better!

And in honor of my birthday (October 8th), I should have another chapter up very soon! Enjoy!

* * *

She drove Adelie back to the Warehouse and put the music box in the girl's hands. "Artie is going to _kill_ me for this," she said, "but I can't wait any longer. Show me."

Adelie stroked the top of the music box, then shook her head and tried to hand it back to Claudia. "Piano," she said.

"Adelie, show me," Claudia repeated.

"Piano," Adelie said. She reached out and put the music box on the desk. Once it was free from her grasp, she ran her hand along the desk, walked its length, and found the piano with her other hand. She sat down and started to play.

Claudia picked up the music box.

"Stop," Adelie said.

"You won't play it," Claudia said.

"_Stop_," Adelie repeated.

"Why can't I play it?" Claudia felt bad. She knew she was baiting the girl. And, seeing as they didn't know what the music box did, it was probably a stupid idea.

But darn it – she wanted to know.

Adelie let out a gusty sigh. She held out one hand.

Claudia picked up the music box and gave it to her.

Adelie set the music box on the piano and held out her hand again.

Suspiciously, Claudia took her hand.

_Tinny piano music._

_The feeling of cold metal and icy glass like raindrops on fingertips._

_Don't you see it's mine? It's me. It's mine. I'm in there._

_Light up and down my arms – like it's calling me back to when we were one part instead of two._

_Do you know this song? You might have heard it before, think you know it, think you own it._

_No. No. It's mine. It's me._

_All fall down._

_All fall down._

Claudia gasped and yanked her hand away from Adelie. "What…?"

Adelie scratched at the Tesla burn on her neck. She tilted her head away from Claudia as thought listening to something far off. "Sorry," she said distantly.

"Adelie, is that what happens…?" Claudia was having a hard time getting her thoughts together.

Adelie put her fingers back on the piano keys and took up the same song she'd been playing earlier.

Claudia let her play.

* * *

At some point she realized the song had changed. In a departure from her usual classical repertoire, Adelie was playing a song Claudia actually recognized and not something that sounded like it should be on an episode of "Masterpiece Theater."

"A little Peter Gabriel, hmm? I think I actually know this one. May I play with you?"

Adelie stopped playing and considered this. "Please," she said at last.

She waited until Claudia had retrieved her guitar from the corner of the office, and then started playing again. Claudia strummed along and sang softly. "_Climbing up on Solsbury Hill… I could see the city light… wind was blowing, time stood still…"_

She was more than a little surprised when Adelie joined her on the last words of the chorus, whispering, "_Hey, I said – you can keep my things, they've come to take me home."_

"You… know the words? Wait, that's a stupid question. I'm sorry. Of course you know the words. I just meant… you don't usually… shut up, Claudia." Claudia put her head in her hands.

Adelie laughed. It was an actual, honest-to-goodness laugh this time, one that seemed to start at her toes and radiate outward. Her whole face seemed to light up, the laughter bright and fizzy, her body reverberating with joy.

When at last she was done laughing, she rested her fingers lightly on the edge of the piano and turned her head towards the music box. "Piano… stop," she said after a long pause. "Hmmm… go."

She picked up the music box and held it close to her face, as though she smelled the box's aromatic cedar. Then her fingers trailed over the inlaid stones and she hummed a bit. To Claudia it seemed as though Adelie was going through an intricate ritual, one that had to be followed precisely before the girl could even think of opening the music box.

Adelie turned the music box and held the second side up to her eyes. She tilted the box back and forth rapidly, the mother-of-pearl inlays catching the light as she stared at it. Her breathing was calm and even; she seemed almost reverent.

The door opened to the office and Claudia nearly groaned aloud.

Artie came in. "I thought you were going to get some sleep," he said.

"I slept," Claudia said. She looked back over at Adelie. The girl had put the music box back on the desk. "I woke up when Steve called."

"And how is Agent Jinks?" Artie went over to the filing cabinet and began searching through it again.

Claudia checked her watch. "He should be here in an hour and a half."

"What?" Artie jerked back towards her. "Why?"

"Well, he said something about a rock garden… and drawing too many circles… and he doesn't have a job at Arby's, and…"

"How much sleep did you get?" Artie asked, looking worried.

"Um, I don't know. Where's Vanessa?"

"I dropped her off at the B and B. She had a brainstorm on the way back from the restaurant about the ointment… something she could do to make it more effective."

"Oh, and Artie, something else happened," Claudia said.

"I don't know if my elderly heart can take any more," Artie said.

"She can control the metronome."

"_What?"_

"I was on the Farnsworth with Steve, and…" Quickly Claudia recounted what had happened.

"And you let Steve come home?"

"He's a grown-up, Artie," Claudia pointed out. "Just because the two of us are connected in ways no one understands by an artifact that no one really understands doesn't mean I'm his mother. Plus, the temple sounded like a whole lot of boring. What was I going to say? All the excitement is clearly here."

Artie put one hand to his forehead, and for a moment Claudia could see that he was tired. "All the excitement is always here," he said.

* * *

"You two are back again?" The guard at the Great Cooper Lake Children's Psychiatric Hospital was clearly not amused.

"We need a hobby," Pete said.

"Well, they haven't found that girl," the guard said. "So whatever you're doin', it ain't working."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Pete said.

He pulled the rental SUV into the parking lot. "Well, we're back."

"And so is the hospital," Myka said.

"Can't decide if that's good or bad," Pete said. "What are we looking for here? We got the music box. What else is there?"

"There has to be another artifact," Myka said. "The music box doesn't explain how Adelie got into the Warehouse."

"We don't know that," Pete said. "We don't know _what_ it does."

"And it doesn't explain where the hospital went the other day," Myka added. "I know what we saw, Pete. This whole place disappeared."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I was here," Pete groused. "How is it possible that a crappy hospital in a backwater town ends up with multiple artifacts?"

"Luck? Sheer coincidence?" Myka shrugged. "Or maybe the psychotic non-doctor was hoarding things to make her treatment even more pleasurable."

Pete shuddered. "Don't talk to me about her. She's like… she's like having an oily rag dragged over your skin."

"That's gross," Myka said.

"Yeah, I thought so."

They were buzzed into the hospital foyer by a nurse in blue flowered scrubs. She smiled. "Back again? Tell me you've found our girl."

"We're still looking," Myka said.

"The doctor's in with a patient's parents," the nurse said. "He would like you to wait in the day room."

She turned to leave. Myka touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry to be rude, but did you work with Adelie at all?"

The nurse smiled a bit wanly and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "She's one of my favorites. I'm so worried about her."

"I'm sure it must be frightening," Myka said.

"Especially after the scandal with that woman who pretended to be a doctor!" the nurse exclaimed. "You didn't hear it from me, but I knew all along that she was hurting our kids." She shook her head. "Electrical stimulation is a fraud treatment. You can tell her that if you see her. I hate that woman."

"Is there anything you can remember about Adelie's time here at the hospital that could help us find her?" Myka asked.

The nurse thought. "Whenever the kids got yard time – which wasn't often because we have to have enough psych techs and they're always up and quitting – she would stand in this one place by the fence. I know she's blind, but sometimes I swear she was looking for something."

"And in the ten years she's been here, she's never had any visitors?" Pete wanted to know.

She shook her head. "No. Not a one. She's a ward of the state. The only people who ever visit her are folks from child protective services, mostly when she has to go to the hospital." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh, God, I just think of her out there alone. What if she's hurt? She can't communicate! She can't tell anybody what she needs!"

"We're going to find her," Pete said.

"Thank you so much for everything you've told us," Myka said.

The nurse wiped her tears away. "I've worked here more than fifteen years and we've never, _never_ lost a patient. Ever. And to think of somebody like Adelie out there – somebody so dependent and so handicapped – that breaks my heart."

"Can you show my partner where Adelie would stand in the yard?" Myka asked. "I'll wait here for the doctor."

"Yeah, of course," the nurse said.

Pete and the nurse walked off down the hall. Myka turned the corner and headed towards Dr. Wilson-Farrell's office.

His booming voice was carrying through the door, loudly carrying on what seemed to be his half of a phone conversation. "… I don't care if you use up the entire budget! You need to _find_ her!" Pause. "She _knows_, Ben." Pause. "Yeah, you bet your ass we're screwed if she gets out. And don't even get me started on…" Pause. "Oh, I'm sorry. _I_ let her get out? I thought I was doing pretty well shocking her into submission." Pause. "Well, you just think of that next time you decide to tell me how to do my job. Get off the phone. Find that girl." Pause. "You know _exactly_ why. Ben – it doesn't matter that she can't talk. You've seen what she can do. And now that Hanover's in jail we've got no way to keep her from… no, I'm not going to tell you again. Get out there and _find her._ No. I've got to go. Those damn Secret Service agents are back._"_

A loud _slam_ as the phone receiver was smashed back onto the cradle.

Myka hurried back around the corner and leaned against the wall, looking nonchalant.

The door to the doctor's office banged open and then the doctor himself strode down the hallway. Myka could hear him taking a series of long, cleansing breaths. Then he stepped forward. "Hello, Agent Bering. It's good to see you again."

"Hello, Dr. Wilson-Farrell."

They shook hands. The doctor put on a smile. "Any news on our escaped patient?"

"No," Myka said. "Nothing that seems promising."

"And you came back here to see if anything had turned up," the doctor said.

"We're stymied," Myka said, pretending to sound confused and at her wits' end. "And the local field office is breathing down our neck with this. Ugh."

"Well, the local police haven't found a body," the doctor said. He sounded so casual, as if he didn't care whether or not a patient of his was lying dead by the roadside somewhere. "There was an incident the other evening where an elderly woman thought she saw a body in the lake, but when they dredged the lake they found a bear. Can you believe it? A _bear_."

"That must have been frightening for the woman," Myka said.

"Yeah. She's upstate in a home now," the doctor said. "Listen, I don't really know what else I can tell you about Miss Reagan-Arden. She's a mystery to everyone here. Doesn't speak, doesn't really communicate. Everything with her is a battle. She hates everything – food, therapy, sleep, showers, yard time, art class – you name it, she fights it. Except for that damn piano."

He chortled. "I go home at night and I can actually hear myself think. When she was here I'd go home and all I could hear was that damn classical piano. It was like living in a department store."

He took a peek at his watch. "Listen, I've got a meeting in about five minutes. I asked the upstairs psych tech to pack up Miss Reagan-Arden's stuff for you. You can take it back to your people… you have crime lab people, right?"

"I'm sure the field office has some consultants."

"Yeah. You can take it back to them, see if you can get anything off it. It's just gathering dust here."

"Thank you, Doctor," Myka said.

"Any time. You need anything else, you just come on back," Dr. Wilson-Farrell said. He winked at Myka and headed back to his office.

A grim-faced psych tech met Myka at the front door of the hospital and handed her a brown paper bag.

"Thanks," Myka said. It was strange how a person so vibrant as Adelie could have so small a life that all of it would fit in a grocery bag.

She let herself out into the yard and walked towards the back fence, where Pete was staring at the chain links. "You plotting an escape?"

"I don't think anybody was plotting escape from here, Mykes," Pete said. "But I've got a weird vibe… and I walked around the whole yard and it's just _right here_."

He gestured to the four square feet of grass closest to the fence. "Here… vibe." He took a big step to the right. "Here… no vibe." He stepped back. "And now we do the hokey-pokey and turn ourselves about."

As though to prove his point, he twirled in place.

A crackle of energy shimmied down across the fence links.

"Whoa," Myka said.

Pete jerked to a stop. "What?"

"Do that again," Myka said.

"You like my hokey-pokey?" Pete did another twirl.

Another jolt of energy wiggled down the fence.

"Holy moly," Pete said. "I felt that."

"There's something in the ground," Myka said.

"And we have _no_ idea what it is," Pete said.

* * *

"You say it's in the _ground?_" Artie asked, peering into the Farnsworth lens.

"Show him, Pete," Myka said.

Pete performed his ungainly twirl and they watched the energy slalom down the fence.

"Oh, my," Artie said. "Um, we'll have to do some research. Is there any place in town where you could get a metal detector?"

"I think we saw a Home Depot," Pete offered.

"Good. Go get a metal detector. And a coil of copper wire, a 60-watt light bulb, two rolls of tinfoil, and a two-inch nail. I'll call you back once we've figured out what it is."

"That's some shopping list," Claudia said as Artie closed the Farnsworth.

"I'm going to have them adapt the metal detector to seek artifacts," Artie said. "Tricky, but it can be done. I'm going down to the Saints and Sinners section to check a hypothesis."

He had been gone no longer than a minute when there was a loud _thump_ at the office door and Claudia grabbed her head as a wave of pain roared through it. "_Steve!"_

"Sorry," Steve said from the corridor. "You guys changed the pass-key."

"Yeah, but the door's still in the same place!" Claudia said, and hurried over to open the door. "_Ow."_

"I said I was sorry."

She threw her arms around him. "It's okay. Welcome home."

"No place I'd rather be," he said. "Is this our genius?"

"Tesla burn and all," Claudia said.

Adelie's fingers were tumbling over the piano keys, spilling Bartok into the office. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes flicking back and forth as though she was tracking something.

"Adelie, this is Steve," Claudia said.

"Hi, Adelie," Steve said.

She didn't respond, still focusing on the ceiling.

"She's not really talkative," Claudia said. "Sit down, sit down, and give me the dish about the temple."

"What's there to tell?" Steve asked, pulling a chair up to the desk. "Rock garden… tiny rake… terrible food… old lady in a pink velour track-suit…"

"Ew, really?"

"Really. Now your turn."

"What's there to tell?" Claudia asked, gently mocking him. "Girl fell into the Warehouse… girl freaked out… Artie Tesla'ed girl… girl stopped breathing… girl's a savant… Dr. Vanessa showed up… girl and other girl jammed out to some Peter Gabriel…"

The music stopped abruptly.

Claudia turned towards the piano. Adelie was still staring at the ceiling, her hands raised above the piano as though she was playing in the air. Then she stopped, got up from the piano, and held her hands out as she walked towards Claudia and Steve.

Claudia held her out her hands.

Adelie ignored her, and reached out for Steve.

He looked at Claudia. "What do I…?"

"Just roll with it," Claudia said, a bit apprehensively. She was totally unsure. She knew what happened when Adelie "showed" her something, and she knew what happened when Steve hurt himself/themselves, but she had no idea what would happen when the two came together.

Steve gently took Adelie's hands.

She smiled. "Please," she said, stepping forward.

With no hesitation, she found Steve's knees and crawled into his lap, snuggling up against him, putting one arm around his neck.

Claudia's mouth fell open. "Holy…"

"I take it she's never done this before," Steve said over Adelie's head.

Claudia shook her head.

Adelie put her ear against Steve's chest, still smiling a dreamy smile. "_Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick_," she breathed.

Uneasily Steve patted her back.

She smiled and nestled up closer to him, still repeating, "_Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick_."

He awkwardly stroked her hair. "Umm… Claud…?"

"Yeah?"

"What do I say?"

"Do you have to say anything?"

Adelie smiled, and snuggled closer to Steve, as though she was trying to get as close to his heartbeat as possible. "_Tick-tick-tick-tick_," she whispered, and Steve rocked her back and forth, and she closed her eyes in blissful synchronicity.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter has taken me so long to get up.

Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters. (That's not a word... but we'll pretend it is.) You guys make my day so much brighter! I am totally flattered by how much you love this story.

Enjoy!

* * *

Adelie slept in Steve's arms. She didn't move or cry out. It was just pure, sweet, deep sleep.

"My arms are falling asleep," Steve whispered.

"I know," Claudia said, shaking her own arms. It wasn't working.

Her Farnsworth started vibrating. "What's up?"

It was Myka. "I need you to run background on a couple of people for me."

"Can do!" Claudia said, excited to get back to the tech side of things. "At your service. But before I do, do you want to see the cutest thing ever?"

"Claudia, I told you – bunnies have that weird parasite, so when you find them in the lawn at Leena's you're supposed to call Animal Control," Myka said.

"What? No, it's not a bunny." Claudia picked up the Farnsworth and turned it so Myka could see Adelie cradled in Steve's arms.

"That is _adorable_," Myka said. "Pete! Pete, come look at this!"

"If it's another bunny, I refuse to get attached. Oh. That is cute."

"And she's not afraid," Claudia said. "She hasn't moved. Or cried. And I think I might be hallucinating a little bit from lack of sleep, but I think the Tesla burn is even getting better."

"Yeah, you're hallucinating," Steve said.

"But _she_ isn't," Claudia said with a grin. "Okay, Myka, whose lives do you need me to dig into?"

"First of all, Dr. Gabriel Wilson-Farrell," Myka said. "He's the chief psychiatrist at the Great Cooper Lake hospital. And then I want you to figure out who else is running this place, or anybody that's connected to the hospital, who might have access to funding. Specifically, if there's a guy named Ben."

"Ben who?"

"Just… Ben," Myka said. "I heard the doctor talking on the phone to someone named Ben, and he was really upset that they couldn't find Adelie. Something about money… and the fake doctor was in on it. They are all _really_ mad that Adelie is gone. She meant something to them. Oh! And when we talked to the neighbor, she showed us the note that Adelie had the day they found her. Her mother's name is Julie."

"Got it," Claudia said. "Where _are_ you guys?"

"At Home Depot," Myka said. "Pete's trying to flirt his way to a discount on the best metal detector they have."

"If you get a good one, we can look for doubloons at the beach when you get back," Steve called.

"Steve, there's no _beach_ in South Dakota," Myka pointed out.

"My arms are asleep," Steve said. "And I just spent four days raking little tiny circles in gravel with a little tiny rake."

"Point taken. We'll find a beach," Myka said.

"Shift position," Claudia suggested. "It'll get blood flow back to your arms."

"And wake her up?"

"Dude, my arms are like limp noodles."

"Fine," Steve said. He carefully moved Adelie to his other shoulder. She murmured softly and gave a short _hmmm_, but didn't wake.

"Better," Claudia said, and she started typing.

Artie came back in. "Is that Myka?"

"Mm-hmm," Claudia said.

"Good." Artie grabbed the Farnsworth. "I know what you're looking for in the ground."

"You do?"

"Yes. You're looking for a statue of Saint Catherine of Siena. It's going to be plaster, painted with oils, approximately twenty-four inches tall. It has a secret compartment in its base that contains a piece of St. Catherine's shroud."

"Okay, great. A saint statue. Wait, Artie, how are we supposed to find a _plaster_ statue with a _metal_ detector?"

"Did you get all of the other stuff?"

"Yeah, Pete's got it right here," Myka said.

"Good. You're going to have to create an electromagnetic circuit between the light bulb, the neutralizer case, your Farnsworth, and the metal detector. If you do it wrong, you'll get shocked."

"Oh, good. Then Pete's definitely doing it."

"Once you've got it hooked up, you'll sweep the metal detector over the area. The metal detector will send a signal to the Farnsworth and you'll be able to see what's under the ground. It'll send a signal to the light bulb if it's an artifact. Use the wire to connect the devices and wrap the connections with aluminum foil."

"What's the nail for?" Myka wanted to know.

"It's the conduit between the neutralizer and the Farnsworth. It goes in the neutralizer case," Artie said. "It'll keep whoever's doing the ground sweep insulated against sudden electrical shift."

"All right. Um, I gotta go – it looks like things are getting serious between Pete and the Home Depot cashier," Myka said. "I'll call you when we get back to the hospital."

"Keep us updated," Artie said. He looked over at Steve. "I was going to ask you to help me with some creative rearranging, but I can see you're occupied."

"I can… try to set her down," Steve said.

"Good plan," Claudia said. "My arms are tingling like a rave."

"What does that even mean?" Artie asked.

"Who knows? I'm running on four hours of sleep."

Steve stood up, carefully shifting Adelie in his arms, and managed to set her down on the couch. She murmured something soft and questioning as she rolled in on herself, bringing her raw fingertips up to her mouth.

"All right," Artie said. "We're going back down to the Saints and Sinners section. We'll have to make room for our St. Catherine statue."

"Call if you need us," Steve said to Claudia.

"I'm better already," she said, grinning. "I can feel my arms again."

When they had gone, she turned her attention to research. She started with Dr. Wilson-Farrell. He had an undistinguished career, starting with a degree in psychiatry from Carroll University in Iowa. His first posting had been in a psychiatric unit of a hospital in Detroit, where, according to records, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Of course, it being a psych unit in _Detroit_, there was a chance that a good number of unlikely things, or things that at the time seemed a little odd, had occurred. But there was nothing that reeked of _artifact_, or even of substandard treatment. For all intents and purposes, the doctor's time at the Detroit hospital had been just a long series of long days treating a long list of mental illnesses.

After spending ten years at the Detroit hospital, Dr. Wilson-Farrell packed up and moved to Great Cooper Lake, where he was installed as the director of the children's psychiatric hospital there. His time at the children's hospital had been filled with awards and recognitions. Dr. Wilson-Farrell was apparently God come to Earth for sick children. Under his care, autistic children began to speak. Selectively mute children opened up. A boy who had once held up a convenience store and stabbed his teacher in the neck had a major personality turn-around; according to reports, that boy was now raising guide dogs for the blind.

But on the other hand, Claudia thought, Dr. Wilson-Farrell had hired "Dr." Hanover, and he was definitely looking the other way when it came to hiring felons at the hospital. So it was a safe bet that he wasn't all kittens and puppies.

Having dug up all she really wanted to know about the good doctor, Claudia turned her attention to the hospital's board of directors and sources of funding.

The board of directors was led by a millionaire who'd made his money honestly – at least as far as his financial records were concerned – through the sales of upscale kitchen utensils. He was accompanied by several "just folks" types – a dry cleaner, two pediatricians, the owner of the Great Cooper Lake Opera House, and a public television program coordinator. None of them was named Ben.

The hospital was funded mostly through state and federal grants. There were a few outlying donations from charitable foundations, but their contributions seemed to be small and pointed; that is, their money could _only_ be used for certain things – new tires for the hospital van, carpet in a dormitory room, the purchase of books. No one connected to any of the grant programs was named Ben. All of the money deposited in the accounts held by the hospital checked out – it had all come from legitimate sources, in legitimate amounts of time, with the proper notations, paperwork, and follow-through.

Claudia circled back around to Dr. Wilson-Farrell. His bank accounts were a little more interesting.

For several years he'd been making the same salary ($195,000), which was paid into his primary bank account in a biweekly fashion. The doctor and his wife were co-signers on the bank account; she appeared to work for the Great Cooper Lake Public Library and was paid far less. Their bank account showed usual household transactions and was therefore no longer interesting. But the doctor had a secondary bank account, one held only in his name, and _that_ was far more interesting.

For the past four years the doctor's secondary account had been getting regular deposits of astronomical amounts – usually between $300,000 and $400,000 per transaction. All of the deposits came from the same place, some organization called Open Minds, Inc. As far as Claudia could tell, Dr. Wilson-Farrell didn't touch the money in the secondary bank account.

_Which means it's insurance_, she thought. _But insurance against __what?_

A quick search for Open Minds, Inc. brought up a very slick, well-designed Web site. "Our primary goal is to increase opportunities for new and radical treatments to prolong health, increase quality of life, and promote healing for children and adults with mental illness, autism, emotional disorders, and behavioral issues. Our doctors, researchers, and biomedical engineers are innovators and inventors," the mission statement read. "Our team is led by Dr. Arun Vijay, who holds dual degrees in psychiatry and biomedical research, and Dr. Cynthia Villanders, whose degree in biomedical engineering has led to two successful patents."

The rest of the Open Minds, Inc. team was listed on the next page. There were more than a hundred names on the page, billed as doctors, researchers, lab techs, engineers, administrative personnel, and more. And at the bottom of the list, grouped with other "Financial Services Personnel," was a name that jumped out immediately. Benjamin Ross. According to the Web site, Benjamin Ross was in charge of research fund allocation, and he was the chair of the financial committee.

There were two other links that interested Claudia – "Affiliated Institutions" and "Success Stories," but the Farnsworth started vibrating before she could continue her search. "What's up?"

"We're back at the hospital," Myka said.

"And it's raining," Pete said from off-screen.

"Bummer."

"It could be worse," Myka said.

"Wow, thanks for jinxing us, Mykes," Pete said.

"I got some information that might be helpful," Claudia said. "Your doctor is taking pay-offs from some skeezy-looking organization that says they're devoted to curing kids of all sorts of crazy brain stuff. Is it working? I don't know, but they're certainly paying him a _lot_ of money."

"Who's doing the paying?"

"An organization called Open Minds, Inc.," Claudia said. "And get this – there's a guy named Ben on their team who handles the financial side of things."

"So this Ben guy is paying Dr. Wilson-Farrell to… what?"

"My first thought is that they're running some sort of experiment. It would fit with the fake doctor and ESM treatment – totally a scam. But it's a _lot_ of money, Myka," Claudia said. "Like, why-hasn't-he-left-for-the-Bahamas kind of money."

"So… maybe the doctor's afraid of these Open Mind people," Pete said, coming up next to Myka.

"Their corporate office is located in Riverdale, which is like twenty minutes from Great Cooper Lake," Claudia said. "It might be worth checking out."

"Can you check and see if the fake doctor Hanover had any connection with Open Minds?" Myka asked.

"I'm almost certain she did," Claudia said. "I haven't checked to make sure, but if she was there promoting ESM – and she was – she had to be taking orders from someone."

Myka thought about this. "When I heard Dr. Wilson-Farrell talking to this Ben guy, he was really upset about something. He was… almost afraid, I think."

"Of what?" Claudia wanted to know.

"Of Adelie," Myka said. "He told Ben to… to use up a budget to go out and find Adelie. Because she knew something… and because he had seen her do something that scared him."

"Well, that could be anything," Pete said.

"Pete," Myka said.

"He's kinda right, Myka," Claudia said. "Some of the stuff I've seen her do…"

"But he sounded like he was afraid for his life," Myka said. "Yeah, I'm scared she's going to punch through a window, too, but I'm not _terrified_. Dr. Wilson-Farrell sounded like he was afraid of being… I don't even know how to describe it. He was just _freaked_."

"Maybe whatever she knows is something that could cost him his job," Pete suggested. "If he's getting huge kick-backs from this Open Minds place, he might be pretty scared that those pay-outs would end."

"It's worth looking into," Myka said. "Any news on Adelie's parents?"

"Didn't have time to look," Claudia said.

"Okay. We're going to get this metal detector hooked up and find this statue," Myka said.

"You wanna walk us through this, Claud?" Pete called.

"Sure," Claudia said. "Take the copper wire and ground it against the metal detector's magnetic servo."

"The what in the who?" Pete asked.

"Um, take the black panel thingy off the metal detector," Claudia said. "There should be a green panel underneath it. Open that panel and – oh, shit."

"What? What? Am I going to get electrocuted?"

"No, but I might," Claudia said, standing up.

"What?"

"Artie's going to _shoot_ me," Claudia said.

"What's going on?" Pete demanded.

"How did she even get _out?"_

"Claudia!" Myka grabbed the Farnsworth back from Pete. "What is happening?"

"Adelie's gone. Again." Claudia scanned the room, fear and panic fighting for dominance in her chest as her gaze found the now-empty table. "And she's got the metronome."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **I'm just in love with this story. It's so flattering that you all are too.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Adelie!" Claudia yelled. "Adelie! Where are you?"

No answer.

She ran up the stairs towards Artie's quarters. "Adelie?"

Nothing.

"Adelie, sweetheart, bring the metronome back to Claudia," Claudia called. "Adelie…"

She ran back to the office and grabbed the Farnsworth. "Artie? Artie, are you there?"

"What is it now?" Artie demanded.

"Adelie's gone," Claudia said.

"Check the Oistrakh aisle," Artie said.

"She's… um…"

"Claudia, what's wrong?"

"_She's got the metronome_," Claudia spat out in a rush.

The Farnsworth screen jerked to the right and Steve's worried face appeared. "What? You _gave_ her the metronome? Why doesn't that girl have a tracking device on her?"

"No!" Claudia protested. "She _took_ it!"

"What is she going to do with it?"

"Steve, do I look like I know?"

"We'll find her," Artie said. "Steve, head back towards the office. Claudia, walk towards Caldecott Sixty-Two. You'll meet in the middle."

"What if she does something to it?" Claudia asked.

"Claudia, she's a savant, not a terrorist," Artie said. "Calm down."

"_Calm down?_ Artie, you didn't see what she did to it earlier. She almost…"

"She almost stopped our hearts," Steve said.

Claudia grabbed her head, feeling over-the-top hysterical.

"She's a _savant_," Artie repeated. "She's intensely musical. Her affinity with the metronome probably grows out of that. Tempo is very big – very important."

"Artie, she is _lost_ in the _Warehouse_ with the _metronome_ that could _kill_ me and/or Steve," Claudia said, only a touch shrilly.

"So come find her. I'll go check the Oistrakh aisle, and you two sweep the areas between the office and Caldecott Sixty-Two. Take the Farnsworth."

Another thought occurred to Claudia, one that pinched at her quite a bit. "Artie, if she's trying to stop the metronome…"

"Which we have _no_ indication she's attempting to do," Artie pointed out.

She pushed up her sleeve to check her watch. "It's been almost twenty-four hours since the last big psychotic episode. So she's due for one. If she tries to stop the metronome, or disrupt it… I don't want to Tesla her again."

"We don't need to Tesla her," Artie said. "You can talk her out of it."

"Maybe," Claudia said as she headed out of the office, "but can I talk her out of it if I can't breathe?"

* * *

"Okay, Pete, give it a go," Myka said.

"Don't drop the neutralizer!"

"Don't drop the metal detector!"

"Really? _That's_ your comeback?"

"If you drop it, Pete, I feel like we're all going up in flames."

Slowly Pete took a step towards the fence, waving the metal detector. Somehow they had jury-rigged the metal detector-neutralizer-Farnsworth circuit, wrapping the entire thing with copious amounts of tinfoil. The end result was an extremely heavy, awkward device that was intermittently shooting off sparks into the rainy afternoon.

"We look ridiculous," Pete groused as he managed to get the metal detector's plate in contact with the grass. "We look like we're on one of those stupid ghost-hunting shows."

"What's wrong with ghost-hunting shows?" Myka wanted to know.

A cloud of sparks arced up the wire connection between the Farnsworth and the neutralizer.

"I don't know, Mykes, I just like a little more _reality_ in my reality TV shows," Pete said. "With those ghost-hunting shows, I know they're never going to find a ghost. Or even if they do, they're just going to get it to make some spooky noise on a crappy tape recorder and then it's gone."

"Oh, and those dating shows are any different?"

"Yeah! The man goes home with a hot lady," Pete said. "He's a winner! Those ghost hunting guys are just losers."

He swept the metal detector closer to the corner of the fence. "You know who I bet _loves_ ghost-hunting shows? Fargo. He'd probably _love_ this stupid thing, too. It weighs more than he does, but I bet he'd get some super nerd jollies out of an artifact detector."

"Pete, you are sounding more and more insane by the minute."

"Well, it's a good thing we're at a _psych hospital!"_ Pete swung the metal detector farther to the left.

The Farnsworth shot off sparks.

"Right there, Pete," Myka said. "Go back to the left a little."

Pete did as she directed, and the Farnsworth screen lit up. A blurry object started to take shape.

"What _is_ that?" Myka tried to bring the Farnsworth closer to her face.

"Myka!" Pete hollered as sparks shot up the connecting wires. "Don't _move_ that!"

"Sorry." Myka leaned closer to the Farnsworth. "I don't think that's it, Pete."

"What else could it be?"

"Honestly, it looks a lot like a shoe."

"A _shoe?"_

"Try to the right."

Pete grunted and swung the metal detector to the right.

"That looks more like a statue," Myka said. "Yeah, I think I can see a tiny sculpted hand."

"Is it our artifact?"

"Hold the metal detector still," Myka ordered.

Pete managed to hold the metal detector's plate over the spot Myka had indicated. The Farnsworth beeped and the light bulb lit. "We've got an artifact," Myka said.

"Awesome," Pete said, and dropped the metal detector. "Let's dig her up."

"Her?"

"Saint Catherine. She better be something special, 'cause I've put more effort into my relationship with her than I did with my last _four_ girlfriends."

* * *

"Okay, I'm heading towards the office," Steve said.

"I'm heading towards you," Claudia said. "Anything?"

"Claudia, I literally just took four steps."

"No, I meant… with your…"

"With my heart? No, it's still beating. As far as I can tell." Steve looked to the right. "Euggh."

"What?"

"I think I just saw somebody's skull."

"It's the Warehouse."

"Well, then. I _definitely_ saw somebody's skull."

"You sound shockingly okay with all of this."

"I'm past it. I can't even see it now."

"No, I mean… the metronome. And Adelie. And their elopement with each other."

"Claudia, do you really think this is the worst thing that's happened to me recently? I was _dead_."

"Don't remind me."

"Fine. I'm at Moscow Seventeen."

"Any sign?"

"No. Nothing. How did she get away from the office?"

"I was talking to Myka and Pete, and she must have gotten up when I was looking at the computer. But she's not the quiet, sneaky type. She's the… um… psychotic, blind, savant-y type."

"Exactly. How far could she have gotten?"

"Oh, Jinksy," Claudia sighed. "This is escape number two for her. At this point she's like those two guys who escaped from Alcatraz. Except she does it blind."

"I saw that episode of Mythbusters," Steve said.

Claudia peeked around a shelving unit. "Adelie?"

Her heartbeat sounded extremely loud in her ears. "Steve, I think…"

"Calm down, Claudia. I don't feel anything."

"Yeah, Steve, that's how it works." Claudia leaned back against the shelf and tried to take deep, slow breaths.

"Claudia, stay calm. Nothing's happening. You're fine."

"Are you saying this is all in my head?!"

"I'm saying that you're tired, and your connection to Adelie is putting more stress on you."

"This is _not_ all in my head!"

"Claudia, calm down."

Claudia's heartbeat was racing. Her palms were sweaty and the Warehouse's shelves seemed to spin around her.

"Claudia, tell me where you are," Steve said. "I'm coming to find you."

"I'm… I'm…"

_Ticktickticktickticktick_ sounded the metronome in her ears. She couldn't tell if it was real or if she was just imagining things. "Adelie?" she whispered.

She grabbed one of the shelf supports and let herself sink to the ground. "Adelie, _stop_," she pleaded as dizziness swept her. She felt a pinch at the back of her neck and her knees turned to jelly.

The Farnsworth clattered to the floor.

_All fall down._

_All fall down._

_Tickticktickticktickticktick tick._

_Hello? Real girl?_

_You're a real girl. I know you're a real girl._

_But you can hear the music too. You understand._

_All fall down._

_All fall down._

_Can you hear me? Real girl? Real girl?_

_Said I was sorry. Said I was sorry. Have it back. Don't want it. Too loud._

_Wait-wait-wait-WAIT! NO! LET GO!_

Steve heard the high-pitched scream echoing from Washington Forty-Six. "Claudia? Adelie?"

He ran down the aisles and passed what looked like a concrete barrel with arms. Twenty feet beyond it, Claudia was propped up against a shelf with her head in her hands, sobbing. Four feet beyond that, Adelie stood in the middle of the aisle with the metronome in her hands, screaming. The Tesla burn, if it had ever started to fade, was back in full force; it had spread to both sides of her neck and down one of her arms, visible under her pushed-up sleeves.

"Shit," Steve said. "Claudia, it's okay. She's here. She's got the metronome."

He cautiously approached the little girl. "Hiya, sweetheart," he said. "Can I have that?"

"No, no, no, no!" Adelie screamed.

_Stop! Get away from me! I'm going to hurt you!_

"Whoa," Steve said. "Okay. We'll get back to that in a minute."

He knelt down next to Claudia. "Claudia, it's me. It's Jinksy. I'm here."

Her breathing was ragged and her eyes were far away. He had clearly caught her in the midst of a panic attack.

"Claudia," he said.

_Tickticktickticktickticktick tick_.

"Claudia, listen to me," Steve said. "You have to come back. It's okay. I know you're scared. But Adelie's here and she's scared, too. She's got the metronome. We're okay. Both of us are okay."

He pulled one of her hands away from her face and held it tightly. "We're okay. You're okay."

Tears streamed down her face as she stared daggers into her knees. "He's just going to come back and he's just going to hurt her again. He's going to hurt me again."

"Who? Who's coming back?"

"He can't always… he can't always do that. It hurts too much. Doesn't he know it hurts? Why doesn't he know it _hurts?"_

"He knows," Steve said.

"No, he doesn't," Claudia protested. "If he knew, he'd stop."

And she started sobbing again.

Steve stood up and cautiously approached Adelie. She looked nearly as upset as Claudia, still screaming. Her fingers were tight around the metronome, her knuckles white.

"Sweetheart, I know you're upset," Steve said, trying to keep his tone even and calm. "I know you're probably in a lot of pain. Can you give me the metronome?"

"No, no, no, no," Adelie whimpered. "Sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong," Steve said. "Just give me the metronome, okay?"

"Sorry. Sorry." A spasm of confusion and pain flitted over her face and her breathing quickened. Then her eyes flitted over to something behind Steve, and she screamed again.

"He's here, he's _here_," Claudia sobbed. "_No, stop!_ You're not here! You're _not here!"_

_Tickticktickticktick_.

Steve looked between the two girls. "Okay, Adelie, let's think of it like a song. You love music, right? I love music too. Can we sing?"

He took another step towards her, trying to make sure she could hear him over her screams as he scanned his brain for a song, any song.

"_Hey, I just met you… and this is crazy…"_

Another step.

"… _but here's my number, so call me maybe."_

One more step.

"_It's hard to look right… at you baby… but here's my number, so call me maybe."_

He was within three feet of her.

"Sing with me, Adelie," he prompted. "Sing with me, okay? _And all the other boys… they try to chase me…"_

"Sorry," Adelie whispered.

_Tickticktickticktick_.

"I know you probably hate this song," Steve said. "Not enough classical piano, huh? _You took no time with the call, I took no time with the fall, you gave me nothing at all…"_

One more step.

"… _but still you're in my way."_ He was so close he could almost feel the Tesla burn radiating heat. "_Hey, I just met you…"_

He grabbed the metronome from Adelie.

_Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick_.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered, and put it on a shelf high above her head.

Relieved of the ticking heartbeat, Adelie turned her fury on herself, slapping her head and biting her wrist.

Steve turned back to Claudia. "Claudia, it's over. Adelie gave me the metronome. Come on back – I need you. I need you to talk to her."

He rubbed her shoulder. "Claud?"

"Jinksy?" she said, sounding confused. "Jinksy, what are you doing here?"

"I work here," he said with a smile. "And you just missed my tuneful rendition of 'Call Me Maybe.'"

The fog cleared from her eyes. "You… _sang?_ How do you even know the lyrics to that song?"

"It got me close enough to our savant to get the metronome away from her," Steve said with a laugh.

"Oh, shit," Claudia said, and shoved herself to her feet. "Adelie, it's okay…"

"Wait, Claudia," Steve said. "Where did you go?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "Places nobody should have had to go to in the first place."

He wrapped his arms around her. "But you came back. 'Cause this is where you belong."

She took a deep breath as she studied Adelie. The little girl was on the floor now, curled into an angry ball as her hands slapped her head over and over. "Yeah. How's your CPR skills?"

"What?"

"Just in case I can't talk her down… or sing her down… just have the Tesla ready."

"_Call me maybe_," Steve half-sang, and reached for the Tesla.

* * *

"Myka, I know that you're all for equal distribution of labor between the sexes," Pete said.

"Mm-hmm. I am."

"And you feel that men and women should be able to compete equally in the workplace?"

"Yes. Very much so. The two of us are equal, right?"

"So why am I down here in a muddy pit? I already had to carry the metal detector!" Pete complained, waving the shovel.

"You're getting mud all over me," Myka pointed out. "And somebody has to hold the umbrella over the neutralizer case."

"_I can do that!"_

Myka sighed. "Fine. Trade places with me."

"Finally!" Pete threw the shovel onto the rain-slicked lawn and then awkwardly climbed out of the three-foot deep hole he'd dug.

Myka handed him the umbrella and headed over to pick up the shovel.

"Good," Pete said.

Myka slid into the pit and started digging. "This seems like a huge length for anyone to go to," she said. "Who would bury a statue down this deep? And where would they get the statue in the first place? Whose statue is this?"

"St. Catherine of Siena," Pete said.

"No, Pete," Myka said as she scooped up more dirt. "That's who the statue is _of_. But it's an artifact. Whose artifact is it?"

"Um… a pope? Or… a really devoted nun? Maybe a whole cabal of nuns. They like to hang out together."

Myka thrust the shovel down again, and the metal point bit into something with a tinny _clank_. "Well, we'll ask her when we see her," she said. "I think I just found our missing saint."

* * *

"Adelie, I know you're scared," Claudia said as she walked towards the girl. "Can you talk to me? It's me. It's Claudia."

Adelie continued to slap her head over and over.

"You're safe here. You are safe here."

_Slap. Slap._

"Adelie, can you hear me?"

_Slap._

"Adelie?"

Slowly the girl turned her head towards Claudia and opened her eyes. They were terrified, panicked, wild. She grabbed at her hair and screamed as though trying to let something out.

And then she shoved herself forward, towards Claudia, reaching out with her frantic, angry hands. There was something odd and possessed in her face – she was somebody else. An angry somebody else.

"Now, Jinksy!" Claudia yelled.

A blast of light and a _crack_ of energy zinged through the aisle.

With a whimper Adelie crumpled to the floor.

Claudia took a deep breath. Steve hauled her off the floor. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "But she won't be. We've got to get her back to the office."

He handed her the Tesla and leaned in to scoop up Adelie. "Grab the metronome."

"Got it."

"You know," Steve said as they headed back towards the office, "my life was never this interesting before I met you."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **In this chapter you will discover the following things about the author: I LOVE Fargo/Claudia. They may be my very favorite ship of all. (Actually, besides Vanessa/Artie, they're my ONLY "Warehouse 13" ship.) I would love to date a smart, geeky, funny guy with a job.

Also, the author is in a VERY good mood because her car got fixed today. Yay! This apparently resulted in cute Jinksy/Claudia conversation midway through.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Almost… almost…" Myka encouraged Pete. They were both in the muddy hole, rain pouring down on them as they wiggled St. Catherine of Siena's statue out of the ground.

"I have mud in my socks," Pete groused.

Myka grabbed the shovel and scooped more dirt away from St. Catherine's base. "Okay, try now."

Pete had the statue by the head, rocking it back and forth in the muddy puddle gathering in the bottom of the pit. "It's still stuck. _Ugh_. This thing weighs a ton!"

"Women are sensitive about their weight, Pete."

"Well, then it's a good thing this isn't a woman."

Myka scraped more dirt off the statue. "Try again."

Pete leaned in and grabbed the statue by the shoulders. "_Oof!"_ he grunted, levering it upwards. "Yeah! Yeah, take _that_, St. Catherine!"

Myka dropped the shovel and hurried to help him prop the statue upright. She leaned in to wipe muck from the statue's face.

"Myka, it's just going to get dirtier," Pete said, panting.

"I know. It just seems… _wrong_ to leave her face all gunky." She looked over at the assembled junk on the sodden lawn – the umbrella covering the neutralizer case, the metal detector, two rolls of tinfoil, wire, and a now-incredibly-damp blanket. "Okay, okay, we've got to get her out of the hole."

There was a _bang_ from the back door of the hospital and a sudden rush of angry voices.

"I thought they _left!"_

"They found something in the yard, Doctor, and I thought since no one's going to be using the yard in the rain…"

"Listen, Michelle, if I wanted someone to come and dig up our yard, I would call a landscaper." Dr. Wilson-Farrell strode across the grass holding a gray umbrella over his head.

"Trouble's on its way," Pete intoned.

Myka wiped her muddy hands on her pants – they were never going to be clean again anyway – and looked up at Dr. Wilson-Farrell. "Can I help you?"

"I think I should be asking that, don't you, Agent Bering?" The doctor looked extremely irritated. "What are you doing digging up our yard?"

"We think something dangerous was buried here," Myka said.

"Is it that statue?" Dr. Wilson-Farrell asked sarcastically. "Because that statue doesn't look dangerous to me."

"It does if it's overlying a power line or a water main," Pete said. He left the statue and walked over to the edge of the pit so he could look up at the doctor. "Which it was. This statue was pressing down on one of your water mains. If it had broken, it would have cut off water to the whole hospital. But we've gotten it out now, and there shouldn't be any issues."

"Please, enlighten me as to how Secret Service agents are qualified to diagnose plumbing problems," the doctor said.

"We're multitalented," Pete said. "I… um… fix things. Myka… knows a lot of Shakespeare. We're not _just_ government goons."

"Well, get the statue out of the hole and then get out of here," Dr. Wilson-Farrell said crossly. "I don't want to see you again unless you've got a warrant or my escaped patient."

* * *

Claudia shoved the metronome back into its case, shoved the case back into the bottom drawer of Artie's desk, and locked it. "There."

"She seems okay," Steve said, looking down at Adelie.

"Give it a minute," Claudia said.

"… no, I don't want you to pour the neutralizer over it!" Artie grumped as he came into the office, holding the Farnsworth in front of him.

"Well, she's too big to stick in the neutralizer case," Pete's voice resonated from the small device. "So unless you want us to break her into pieces – which, at this point, considering that Mykes and I spent three hours in the pouring rain digging this thing out of a muddy pit, sounds like a damn good idea – we aren't going to be able to neutralize her until we get her back to South Dakota."

"Do _not_ break the statue!"

"Fine," Pete said. "Then she's flying coach back to South Dakota with us."

"Bring it back here in one piece," Artie ordered, pointing one finger at the Farnsworth screen. He slammed the Farnsworth and looked over at Steve and Claudia. "What's going on?"

"We had to Tesla her," Claudia said.

"But she seems fine," Steve said.

"Give her a minute," Artie said. "I'm going back to the B and B to get Vanessa, since we all know what's undoubtedly going to happen. You two hold down the fort."

He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and punched in the pass-key for the door.

"And then there were two," Steve said.

"And an unconscious one," Claudia said.

She picked up the music box, gripping it tightly. It felt warm. It felt like it had a heartbeat, which was absolutely a ridiculous thought.

"What's that?" Steve wanted to know.

"It's hers," Claudia said.

"What song does it play?"

"We don't know. Artie won't let us play it."

"Is it an artifact?"

"As Artie says, a music box made out of glass and human bone _has_ to be." She carried it across the office and sat down with it on her lap. "Oh man, Jinksy, her Tesla burn looks even worse. It's getting all… black and crusty around the edges. Damn."

"It looks like it hurts a whole lot," Steve agreed.

Carefully Claudia picked up Adelie's left hand and held it. There was a pulsing arc of Tesla burn down the girl's left arm, but it hadn't reached her fingers. "If she can't play the piano, she's gonna be pissed," Claudia said, curling her fingers gently around Adelie's limp palm.

Steve sat down in Artie's chair. "So what's this weird connection you have with her?"

"You want me to try to explain it?" Claudia laughed. "I can't do that. I haven't even figured it out yet. All I know is – girl geniuses have to stick together, especially those who end up in the Warehouse in less-than-traditional manners."

"You _wanted_ to be here," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, but I broke in," Claudia said. "And, technically, so did she."

"Have you guys figured out how she got in?" Steve asked.

"No." Claudia shook her head. "Artie seems to think the answer will reveal itself in the St. Catherine statue, but I have my doubts. Adelie is the kind of enigma who doesn't take her cues from anybody – even an artifact-y statue."

"Did you guys check for a crazy-girl-sized hole in the roof?"

"Jinksy." Claudia rolled her eyes. "And she's not crazy. She's… had some difficult experiences in her life that have led her to be… less than coherent. And we're not helping, obviously. When she fell in here, she had no shoes and a big bump on the back of her head. Now she's had more than three psychotic episodes and she's got a Tesla burn that's going to engulf her whole body. Not to mention a broken window and all these cuts on her hand."

"And a sweet new wardrobe," Steve said.

"Yeah, well," Claudia said. "She had to wear something."

A thought occurred to her. "Pete thinks she looks like… like what my kids would look like."

"Yeah?" Steve obviously found this hilarious.

"Shut up."

"Did he mention who you might be… having these hypothetical offspring with you?" Steve asked, trying to keep from laughing out loud.

"No," Claudia said. "And don't you start!"

"Well, let's see… what's-his-face is still in the Witness Protection Program…"

"_Todd_."

"And that other guy freaked out when you told him you were marked for death… which, by the way, hasn't happened yet."

"Says the man whose life is being held together by the artifact equivalent of spit and glue."

"Don't talk about the metronome that way," Steve said. "And who was the third guy? Oh, yeah, Genius Pants from Eureka. How _is_ Dr. Douglas Fargo, anyway?"

"He's fine," Claudia said. "He's busy."

"You know… you would have really cute kids," Steve said. "You and Fargo."

Claudia went nearly as red as her hair. "_Jinksy."_

"You would," Steve went on, grinning. "Cute, nerdy little kids who hopefully dress like you… who can hack into whatever secret government program they want… and who, God willing, will end up on the right side of the law."

"Hey, hey, I have never broken any laws," Claudia said. "None that mattered, obviously."

"You broke into a government storage facility, kidnapped the agent in charge, and shocked him with handcuffs," Steve said.

"Artie _told_ you that?" Claudia's eyes went wide.

"Well, he got a little tipsy at the Univille Memorial Day Fiesta, and… he's a talky drunk. I blame it on the fifty-cent margaritas."

"In my defense, I was… I was somebody else back then," Claudia said. "And… that is a story I need to hear in its entirety some time."

"We all were somebody else back then," Steve said. "And I think I have some pictures I can show you."

"Christmas card material?" Claudia asked, grinning.

"I know you'd never do that to somebody you care about now," Steve said, ignoring her question.

"Well, there's nobody stuck in an inter-dimensional void now," Claudia said. "I mean, the odds are good that _somebody_ is, but it's nobody I know. Or am fixated on freeing. But just so we're clear, the truth is that I would do just about _anything_ to save somebody I love."

"I know," Steve said, smiling. "It's one of the things I like best about you."

He looked over at Adelie, who, even in her Tesla coma-state, had her pale fingers wrapped tightly around Claudia's. "I think it's what _she_ likes about you, too."

* * *

Vanessa hurried into the office, her kit in her hand. Artie was right behind her, carrying an oxygen tank. "Has it started?" he demanded.

Claudia shook her head. "No. But she keeps moving her mouth like she's in pain. And her lips are kinda gray."

Vanessa knelt down next to the couch. "Oxygen," she said to Artie.

He handed her the tank. From her kit she pulled out an Allan-key and a cannula. She fitted the cannula to the nozzle of the tank, then cranked it on with Allan-key. "Here," she said to Claudia. "Can you slip it around the back of her head?"

"Mm-hmm." Claudia slid the cannula around the back of Adelie's head and adjusted it so the prongs of the tubing were in the girl's nose.

Adelie's brow furrowed and she let out a pained _mew_. Beneath her closed eyelids her eyes jerked back and forth, and her grip on Claudia's hand tightened.

"Yeah," Vanessa said. "We need to get her some painkillers."

She rummaged around in her kit, drew out a syringe and a bottle of medication. With a quick movement she drew up a dose of medication and injected it into Adelie's arm. "That should… hopefully… give us some time to work on this," Vanessa said. "The burn on her chest looks worse."

"Can you fix it?" Steve asked quietly.

"At this point there's no _fix_," Vanessa said. "Technically speaking. There's a couple things we can try to treat it, but since I've never seen a case like this, there's not really anything that'll _cure_ it. Nor is there anyone I can consult with."

"Mrs. Frederic?" Claudia suggested. "She's seen everything."

"I didn't think about Mrs. Frederic," Artie said. "I can't imagine she'd be pleased about having another intruder in the Warehouse, but…"

"Hey, it's been several _years_ since I kidnapped you," Claudia pointed out. "And… this one wasn't anyone's fault. Or… an attempt to harm and then shame a government official."

Vanessa put her fingers to Adelie's wrist to take her pulse. "She looks bad," she said, looking up at Artie. "I mean, I know it's not technically a medical diagnosis, but…" The doctor gently pulled down the collar of Adelie's shirt and let out a soft gasp. "Oh, God."

The site of the first Tesla burn, the previously-red starburst, was crusty and black. The only red spots were around the edges of the burn, and the burn was pushing outward, spreading down Adelie's arm.

Vanessa dug around in her kit and pulled out the jar of ointment. "This'll slow it, but not for long. I've got to do more research… maybe somebody's heard of this. And… I guess, last resort, we'll call in Mrs. Frederic."

She handed the jar to Claudia. "Can you put some of this on her chest for me?"

"Mm-hmm," Claudia said. She picked up the music box and set it on the desk.

"What is… that?" Vanessa asked, pointing to the box.

"It's… it's hers," Artie said. "We don't know what it is or what it does."

"So, play it," Vanessa said.

"_Thank_ you!" Claudia said, waving her hands in the air.

"No, no, _no_," Artie protested. "Artifact. Unknown artifact. Artifact with human _bone_ in it."

"Whose bone?" Vanessa wanted to know, picking up the box.

"We don't know," Artie said.

"So put some ear-muffs on," Vanessa said. "Give the thing a twirl."

She sat down at the computer and started typing.

"See? I like a practical woman," Claudia said.

"Practical, right up until it peels off your ear-drums and goes dancing around the room with them," Artie said.

"Can an artifact _do_ that?" Steve asked.

"You work here, what do you think?"

"Point taken."

Adelie let out another _mew_ that quickly turned into a gasp, a chest-breaking wheeze. Even in her Tesla coma, she reached up for her throat as though she could convince herself to breathe.

Vanessa hurried back over and cranked the dial on the oxygen canister. "Is this…?"

"This is how it happened before," Claudia said. "Only, it got worse. We broke it when Leena dumped Joseph Priestley's soda water on it."

"Which we put in the ointment," Vanessa said.

"Yeah," Claudia said, smearing some of the ointment across the Tesla burn. She looked down at Adelie, who was clawing at her throat. "How long?"

"How long until…?" Vanessa looked over at the girls.

"Until…" Claudia waved her non-ointment-covered hand in the air. "Until…"

Vanessa stood up and came over to Claudia. She put one firm hand on the redhead's shoulder. "I haven't known her very long, and I don't know you as well as I'd like. But what I know about both of you is that you're fighters. You don't survive ten years in a shitty psychiatric hospital and come out as well-rounded and smart and funny as this one without being a fighter. And you don't survive the Warehouse without ending up as caring and lovely and wonderful as _you_ without being a fighter.

"So, I promise you – we aren't done fighting. We fight. We _fight_. We're going to find something to help her. I've been at the CDC a long time… and I've been treating Warehouse agents a long time, and so far I haven't found _anything_ that's stymied me for too long. And… as a consolation prize, there's nothing that's stymied me that's _ever_ stymied Mrs. Frederic."

"We'll figure it out," Artie agreed. "Myka and Pete are on their way back with the St. Catherine of Siena statue – that might be the key."

The increased oxygen flow seemed to do _something_, because Adelie's frantic fingers at her throat slowed and her head flopped back a little. Claudia used the opportunity to smear some more ointment on the girl's chest.

She finished, and wiped her hands off with a towel from Vanessa's kit. "I wish…" she murmured, looking at the music box and then down at Adelie. "Wait a minute…"

Steve got up and came closer. Artie and Vanessa had moved into their own couplet, doing research and talking softly. "What is it?" he asked, perching on the edge of the desk.

"Before… Adelie's shown me stuff," Claudia said, looking down at the girl. Her lips were gray-blue, but she was breathing calmly and slowly. "She took me to the hospital, showed me where the music box was. What happens if I ask her…?"

"Ask her what the music box does," Steve said, his eyes going bright with enthusiasm.

Claudia reached over to the desk and brought the music box over. She put one of Adelie's hands on the music box and took the girl's other hand in hers. "Can you show me…?" she whispered to Adelie.

The hand on the music box moved slightly, as though Adelie was trying to grab onto it.

"That's right, it's yours," Claudia whispered. "Can you show me what it does?"

She held the girl's hand tighter. "Show me, Adelie," she whispered.

Adelie's eyes opened, and she leaned up and pulled Claudia towards her.

Their foreheads touched, and –

* * *

_Real girl! Real girl, you're __here__!_

"Where's here?" Claudia demanded.

Adelie was next to her, holding her hand tightly. "No piano," she whispered.

"Where are we?" Claudia repeated.

She looked around – they were definitely not in the hospital. They were standing in a dark, ugly living room. There was a scummy-looking couch to their left, and a TV flickering in the corner.

"Adelie!" an angry voice called from the other room. "Adelie, let's go!"

There was a bright spurt of laughter, and a tiny sprite of a thing in pajamas ran past Claudia and Adelie. "I'm coming, Momma!" she yelled.

_Real girl. I was a real girl._

The pajama'ed girl slid past them into the kitchen.

_Before. I was a real girl before._

"Drink your juice," the angry voice said. "Then we're going to work in the basement."

Adelie – the real Adelie – gripped Claudia's hand tightly. _Not the basement._

"Okay, Momma!" the bright little voice crowed.

"It'll be the last time," the angry voice said.

There was a time _slip_, as though they'd moved sideways, and Claudia knew they were in the basement. Adelie was sobbing softly next to her. _Real girl, you can't stop it. But you wanted to see, so LOOK!_

The little Adelie, the tiny one in pajamas, was strapped down on a table. There was a bright white bandage running the length of her left arm.

Claudia's heart stopped.

"Momma?" the little girl questioned. "Momma, I'm tired."

And then her head dropped backwards onto the table, the girl clearly unconscious.

The woman Adelie had called Momma came around the side of the table. She was tall, brusque, angry-looking. In her hand was a strange-looking tool, something sharp and medical. "Let's get this over with," she grunted.

_Don't look, real girl_, Adelie pleaded, gripping Claudia's hand tighter. _I lied, don't look_.

But Claudia had come this far. She had to know. She took another step forward.

Momma leaned over the girl and peeled back the bandages on her arm. And then the tool was inside the girl's arm, pulling, twisting, grabbing, _removing_ something.

Momma held up the prize – a piece of bone.

_Oh God, real girl. Is it over, real girl?_

Momma slipped the bone into a metallic cylinder. On the table next to it –

"The music box," Claudia whispered.

_This is when it hurts_.

And then there was a flare of light, and the angry look on Momma's face dropped away. "I am so sorry, baby," she whispered, and leaned in close to kiss the little-Adelie's face.

The flare of light got brighter, and Claudia could hear now-Adelie next to her, screaming.

_She burned away my optic nerves_, now-Adelie said through the palm-to-palm connection, somehow louder than the screams of the girl clinging to Claudia's hand. _She's a surgeon. An optical surgeon. She took my arm bone and then she took my sight_.

_And then she __left__ me_.

"I love you, baby," Momma whispered, and the light dimmed. Momma moved over to the bone in the metal cylinder and started picking at it.

Adelie tugged on Claudia's hand, pulling her forward. They crossed the sticky basement floor together, until now-Adelie stood over little-Adelie, blank eyes staring down at what had been.

_I loved you, real girl. I loved who you would have been. When I play the Liebestraum they're for you, my real girl, 'cause I know you can hear it wherever you are._

Now-Adelie brought her other hand up and found little-Adelie's face; she leaned down and kissed the little girl. _Take me back, real girl_, she said to Claudia, and straightened up, letting the tears stream down her face onto the little girl's forehead.

"We're back in Artie's office," Claudia said, and she pulled now-Adelie to her and hugged her tightly. "We're back in Artie's office, and we're safe, and you can breathe, and Steve's got a plate of cookies…"


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** You know the drill - I'm so grateful for all my readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters. You make my day so much brighter. Thank you!

Enjoy!

* * *

She gasped and threw herself backwards, trying to get away from whoever was grabbing her arms. "Let go of me!" she screamed.

"Claudia, it's me!" Steve said. "It's Steve."

"Steve," she repeated. "Steve? _Steve?"_

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, releasing her forearms.

"What? No. No. I saw…" Her head hurt, though. _Had_ she hit it?

She pushed herself upright and looked around the office. Vanessa and Artie were gone, and Adelie –

"Adelie!" Claudia breathed. "Where is she?"

"Some co-worker of Dr. Vanessa's showed up, and they took her down to the treatment room."

"They just… took her?"

"Yeah. The guy was huge. Very muscle-y."

"No, I mean…"

"She started going downhill _really_ fast," Steve said. "It was frightening."

"What?" Claudia's head was still ringing.

"Yeah. Wherever you guys went… she started crying, even though she was still asleep, and then she completely panicked and couldn't breathe. It was…" Steve shook his head. "It was scary. I think it was even scarier because at that point she was awake. Clawing at her throat and shaking…"

He shook his head again, unable to finish. Then he rallied, squared his shoulders, and went on. "Dr. Vanessa cranked up the oxygen but Adelie was going blue… it was then that Mr. Muscles showed up. Artie tried shaking you, but you just… you wouldn't wake up. They couldn't tell which of you was more worrying, but in the end not-breathing wins out over not-waking-up. So Mr. Muscles scooped up Adelie and she and the oxygen tank and Dr. Vanessa and Artie sprinted out of here. Artie actually was _running_."

"What are they going to do?" Claudia asked as she tried to stand up. Her head spun and pain arced across her chest; the office suddenly grew a whole lot of black spots at the edge of her vision. "Whoa."

"Sit down," Steve said, and helped her back to the couch.

"I have to go down there," Claudia said.

"You're not going to be any use to Adelie if you pass out," Steve said. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Do you have cookies?"

"What? No, but I've got peanut-butter crackers in my bag." He grabbed his duffel bag from the floor near the desk and started rummaging through it. "I thought I liked rice… and then I spent four days in the temple. Turns out I didn't like rice. I liked the other things that people eat with rice."

"Nobody likes rice, Jinksy."

"Billions of people in China do! Japanese people do! I'm told it's pretty popular in the Philippines and India!" Steve pulled out a packet of peanut-butter crackers. "But I guess I'm destined to be an ugly American my entire life, because plain rice doesn't tickle my taste buds."

"Gross," Claudia said as she took the crackers from him.

"Yeah, well," Steve said.

He watched her eat crackers for a moment. "Can you tell me where you guys went?"

"We went to… I'm not even sure how to describe it," Claudia said, spewing cracker crumbs.

Steve rummaged around in the bag again and pulled out a blue Gatorade. "Please drink this," he said.

She obliged, taking a long sip. "But I know what's in the music box."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"It's her _arm bone_, Steve," Claudia said. "Her _mother_ took it out of her arm… and then her _mother_ blinded her… and then she _left_ her in a scummy basement with a music box constructed out of her own body parts."

A sudden thought flitted across her mind and she tried to get up from the couch. The pain grabbed her and pinched at her ribs; the black spots made a sudden reappearance and the room spun.

"_Sit down_," Steve said forcefully. "Where are you going?"

"Computer," Claudia said.

"I'll get it," Steve said. "Eat those crackers, please."

He retrieved her laptop from the desk and brought it over. She stuffed another cracker into her mouth and took it from him, eagerly. "I know her mother's name! And her mother's occupation! It's a slam dunk, Jinksy."

"Drink," Steve said, and forced the Gatorade into one of her typing hands.

She took the quickest of drinks and then resumed typing.

"Even if you find her mother," Steve said, trying to speak with the utmost tact, "what are you going to do? Obviously the woman was _nuts_… and she doesn't want her. If you find her…"

"Not _if_, Jinksy. _When_."

"Okay, _when_. _When_ you find her mother, what are you going to do? Demand that she take Adelie back? Hurt her? Make her pay for abandoning her severely disabled child?"

"She deserves to know what happened to her kid," Claudia said. "She deserves to know that her shitty series of decisions led her daughter to be imprisoned in a facility that performed unauthorized medical experiments on her, left her in the hands of child-abusing _felons_, and turned her into the perfect picture of an institutionalized child!"

Steve put his hands over Claudia's, forcing her to look up. "Hey."

"What?" she asked, clearly irritated.

"Who is this for?"

"What do you mean, who is this for?"

"Adelie's mother left her because she was a shitty mother. Adelie was rescued by somebody who cared. She was taken to a place where they could safely take care of her. I can't make excuses for the horrible things that happened while she was there, but I _do_ know that at that facility, she found a piano. She fell in love. That piano, in that facility, was what set her free. And eventually, whatever was buried in the yard there set _her_ free," Steve said. "If she had stayed with her mother, she might be dead. She might be worse – paralyzed, or in a place where she couldn't play the piano. And her mother – obviously she made the best out of what was obviously a sinkhole situation. If you find her mother, what's going to happen?"

"She's going to pay for what she did."

"How, Claud? For some reason, she mutilated her child and then _left_ her," Steve said. "She's already paid for what she did. Over and over."

She petulantly stared at the computer screen.

"Trust me on this one," Steve said.

He put the Gatorade in her hand.

"I want her to see…" Claudia said, staring at the Gatorade as though it contained the meaning of life, "… that the little girl she _broke_ turned out to be an amazing person. Smart. Funny. Inventive. Adventurous. Courageous. Somebody sweet, and caring, with a great sense of humor. I want her to see that she _gave up_ on that person."

"Don't you see?" Steve asked. "If this woman hadn't given Adelie up, she wouldn't _be_ that person."

That stopped Claudia totally, and to cover the sudden tears in her eyes she took a long, _long_ drink of Gatorade.

"She is that person because of what happened to her _after_ her mother left her," Steve went on. "And bringing her mother back into her life is not going to make either life any better."

The computer beeped.

"Unless, of course, you type like a fiend and you've already found her," Steve said, and rolled his eyes.

"Julie Arden isn't an optical surgeon," Claudia said, forgetting that was a detail only she would know. "She's a neurosurgeon. And she… she works for… oh my God, Steve, she works for the Open Minds people!"

"The _who?"_

Claudia gripped the edges of her computer tightly. The room was spinning again. "Steve, she works for the people who _tortured_ Adelie. The ones who are trying to find her _right now_. The ones Myka and Pete are on their way to interrogate."

* * *

"Now, _this_ place is nicer than the loony bin!" Pete declared as he pulled the SUV into the parking lot at Open Minds, Inc.

"Pete."

"What?"

"Two of the people back at the Warehouse have been in a psychiatric facility," Myka pointed out. "You might… want to refer to it with a little more tact."

"Neither of them is here," Pete said. "Plus, Claudia thinks it's funny."

"Does she?"

"She thinks I'm hilarious."

Myka rolled her eyes. "Just like everyone else, right, Latimer?"

They got out of the car and walked towards the Open Minds building. It was built like a cross between Falling Water and a futuristic spaceship – all glass, steel, soaring archways, majestic columns, gorgeous landscaping.

"These people have money," Myka said as they headed towards the entrance, "and they're not afraid to show it."

"If that doctor guy's getting payouts from these guys, why isn't there more money going into the hospital?" Pete wanted to know.

"It's a state-run facility," Myka said. "If a whole lot of money started coming in from a private research firm, there'd be a lot more scandals than a saint statue buried in the backyard."

They entered the lobby. It was muted, understated, decorated in soothing tones of gray and light green. A fountain burbled merrily in the middle of the entryway. A circular desk provided a workspace for a no-nonsense secretary. Her hair was pulled back into a stern bun. She wore a headset, and appeared to be speaking into it.

As Myka and Pete approached, she looked up at them. "Can I help you?"

"We're with the Secret Service," Pete said, and they flashed their badges.

"Is the President coming to visit?" she asked, clearly unflappable.

"No, ma'am," Pete said.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"We're working with Dr. Gabriel Wilson-Farrell," Myka said.

"My condolences," the secretary said.

"I suppose you've heard that one of his patients escaped," Myka said.

"Yes. Tragic. Autistic children have a tendency to wander. Have you found her?"

"Not yet."

"And you're still here," the secretary said.

"We have it on good authority that Dr. Wilson-Farrell is working _very_ closely with some researchers here," Myka said.

"I can't release that information."

"You don't have to. We already know it," Pete said.

"And you think his escaped patient is _here?"_ The secretary was ice.

"No," Pete said.

"And yet you're still here."

"Listen, _Anya_," Myka said, reading the nameplate on the desk, "is there someone else we could talk to?"

"You want me to bother someone higher up on the food chain so that you can tell them the same bundle of non-information you've told me?" She smiled. "You must think I'm a fool."

Myka leaned in closer. "We know that this organization pays large, undocumented sums of money to Dr. Wilson-Farrell. Money, if you don't mind me saying, that he clearly is not earning. We believe he's doing that at the expense of the mental and physical health of his patients. And, _Anya_, since you don't seem to have a checkbook or any authority to dole out large sums of money, could you please put us in touch with someone who can?"

At this the secretary straightened up. "Someone will be with you shortly," she said crisply.

Forty-five minutes later, they were still waiting, reading old copies of _The Autism Studies Journal_. Pete nearly jumped out of his skin when the Farnsworth started vibrating. He grabbed for it and stood up. "Yeah?"

"Pete, listen to me," Claudia said, seriously leveling her gaze at the Farnsworth screen. "Have you gotten to the Open Minds offices yet?"

"Yeah, we're sitting here waiting to see somebody," Pete said. "But I think the secretary's just trying to screw with us."

"Get out of there," Claudia said.

"What? Why?"

"Adelie's mother is there."

"_What?"_

His raised voice got Myka's attention, and she came over. "What is it, Claud?"

"Adelie's mother is there," Claudia repeated, speaking quietly, leaning in towards the screen. "Her mother _works there_."

"How did you find her?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Claudia said. "I'll explain it fully when you get back here. But you have to get out of there."

"Why?" Pete asked. "She doesn't know we're here. She doesn't know that Adelie's with us."

"No, but what do you want to bet that Dr. Wilson-Farrell has already given the heads-up to his Open Minds stooges?"

"So they know two Secret Service agents are coming. Again, they don't know she's with us."

"They're probably already on high alert," Claudia said. "Adelie's missing and her mother's there. And her mother? Not a nice lady. She created an artifact."

"How?" Myka asked.

Claudia paused and took a deep breath. Then, somewhat incongruously, she took a long drink of Gatorade. "She took a bone out of her daughter's _arm_ and put it in the music box. And then? And then she blinded her daughter."

"Claudia, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Claudia said tensely. "There's just a lot going on. Please, just leave."

She sounded so confused and out of it that Pete and Myka exchanged a series of glances. "If we leave now, we won't find out how Dr. Wilson-Farrell is getting the money," Pete said. "Or why he's trying so desperately to find Adelie."

"Excuse me," a smooth, cultured voice said from behind the agents. "Agents Bering and Latimer?"

"Gotta go," Pete said.

"Just… keep her safe, okay?" Claudia whispered, leaning in towards the Farnsworth. "She's safe with us."

"I know, Claud," Pete said, and closed the Farnsworth.

The woman who had approached the agents was tall, slim, and redheaded. She wore an expensive-looking business suit in a light shade of plum. She had small, round glasses and wore a smile. "Hello. Welcome to Open Minds," she said, and shook their hands. "I'm Dr. Cynthia Villanders. I understand you have some questions about our work at the Great Cooper Lake facility. Please, step this way."

She led them to a small conference room. "Please, sit. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Orange spritzer?"

"No, thank you," Myka said. "We're fine."

Dr. Villanders sat down. "Then I am all yours."

"We understand that your organization is working with hospitals to provide treatment for children with autism," Myka said. "Including the Great Cooper Lake hospital."

"Yes, that's true," Dr. Villanders said. "We're very excited to work with these patients. We feel that our treatments can provide long periods of mood stability and a decrease in behavioral outbursts."

"Were you aware that a woman calling herself a doctor was administering unproven electrical shock treatments to patients at the hospital?"

Dr. Villanders looked solemn. "Yes. Unfortunately, we did not become aware of it as quickly as we would have liked. Dr. – I suppose I can't call her that, though? Um, _Ms._ Hanover came up through our research laboratory program. She told us that she had been working with scientists at Ball State University. She was looking for a grant to extend their treatment program. We didn't find out that treatment was ESM until six months after she began the program at Great Cooper Lake, and we didn't find out she wasn't a doctor until two months after that."

She looked very seriously at Pete and Myka. "Please take me very seriously when I say this – Open Minds, Inc. does _not_ condone the usage of ESM treatments. We believe that ESM treatments are harmful to patients and that they do more damage than good. ESM treatment is _not_ something we endorse."

"I don't think anyone endorses it," Myka said.

"Except maybe Not-Doctor Crazy-Pants," Pete said. "She seemed to be pretty into it."

"We had nothing to do with her program," Dr. Villanders said. "And I intend to testify against her in court so that she gets the punishment she deserves."

"Did you know that the patient she fixated on is missing?" Myka asked.

"Yes," Dr. Villanders said. "Dr. Wilson-Farrell informed us when the young woman went missing. Are you looking for her?"

"We are," Myka said. "Do you have any information about her disappearance?"

"I wish I did," Dr. Villanders said. "I can only imagine the issues raised for her following the ESM treatment. She must be very confused and upset. If we had any information about her, I would turn it over to you immediately."

"You mentioned that Ms. Hanover spent some time here," Myka said.

"Yes. She worked with our research team. And, unfortunately, we were allowing her to perform experimental treatments here."

"Did she leave anything behind that might give us a clue?" Pete asked.

"I'm not sure what remained after the police went through," Dr. Villanders said. "But I suppose you're all on the same team, so you are welcome to look at her office and the laboratory space she used."

"That would be very helpful," Myka said.

"Of course," Dr. Villanders said. "Right this way."

She ushered them through similar well-appointed offices and up a flight of stairs. Myka caught glimpses of other people working at computers, or talking in small groups. Whatever they were doing, they all seemed to be very dedicated to it.

"This was her office," Dr. Villanders said, stopping in front of a gray door. "Her research space is attached to the office."

She unlocked the door and turned on the light for them. "I'll be in my office. It's the last door on the right. Please come and find me when you're ready to leave. And anything you find in here, please feel free to take it. The sooner our institute forgets about Carrie Hanover, the better for us."

"Thank you," Myka said.

She and Pete slipped into the office. Pete closed the door behind them.

The office in front of them was well-appointed but spare. There was no computer, but a keyboard still rested on the desk. A filing cabinet sat at the far end of the room. Two well-padded chairs were adjacent to the desk, as though waiting for the doctor to reappear.

On the far side of the room was another door. This one was open, the room beyond it dim. Pete moved towards it. "I'll check out the research space," he said.

Myka pulled open the top drawer of the desk. Nothing. The next drawer contained two paper clips, a square pad of Post-It Notes, and a bottle of White-Out. The other two drawers were empty. The first two drawers of the filing cabinet were similarly empty, but in the bottom drawer was a thick black binder. Myka pulled it out and flipped it open. "Pete, look at this."

Pete stuck his head back into the office. "What is it?"

"DVDs," Myka said. "There must be a hundred of them."

She flicked through the clear plastic sheets. "And they all have Adelie's name on them."

"Then I guess that explains all this," Pete said.

Myka stood from her crouch and walked into the research space.

"This is like a bad movie," Pete said.

The research space was a simple room with a cabinet, a couch, and a low table. Behind a clear plastic panel was a video camera, its blank eye staring out into the room.

"I think she videotaped all of the sessions," Pete said.

"She must have needed an insurance policy," Myka said. "Proof that her treatment was working."

Pete opened the cabinet door and let out a low whistle. "And here's our fake doctor's co-star."

For a moment they just stared at the brutal-looking machine in the cabinet. It was square, blocky, bulky, reminiscent of both a car battery and a mini refrigerator. Six dials were attached to the front. A wide variety of switches, buttons, and knobs were arrayed below. A series of four wires trailed off the top of the machine; each wire ended in a plastic adhesive circle.

"I don't even like looking at this," Pete said.

"No, it's awful," Myka agreed.

"Take the DVDs. We're leaving."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Somewhat of a filler chapter, with appearances by Mrs. Frederic! And Jane Latimer! And a doctor in a Hawaiian shirt!

Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers - you guys are awesome. I read and appreciate every single review and I love suggestions from readers.

Enjoy!

* * *

When she could finally stand without the room spinning, Steve stopped protesting Claudia's exit from the office. But he followed her all the way down to the procedure rooms.

"I'm not six," she groused at him. "I can take care of myself."

"She says," Steve said, and rolled his eyes.

They rounded a corner and were suddenly face to face with Jane Latimer. "Hello," she said.

"Um, hi," Claudia said. "Is there… Regent-y business going on?"

Jane looked confused, but then she seemed to understand Claudia's meaning. "No, I was with Mrs. Frederic. We came together."

"Mrs. Frederic is here?"

"Yes. She's in with Dr. Calder and her associate now."

"We're not… in trouble… or anything, right?" Claudia asked.

"In trouble? I don't think so. Did you do something wrong?"

"Um… well… there's…" Claudia waved her hand at the Warehouse.

"You mean because someone else broke into the Warehouse?" Jane asked.

"Yeah," Claudia said, relieved.

"You had nothing to do with that," Jane said.

"No, but…"

"You had nothing to do with that," Jane repeated. "And from what I can tell, you have attempted to make our guest's visit here as non-traumatic as possible."

"With not a whole lot of success," Claudia muttered.

"From what I understand, she is a very disturbed young woman," Jane went on. "I have a feeling that a lot of things are very difficult for her. Artie has nothing but good things to say about her, though, and I look forward to speaking with her when she's feeling better."

Claudia turned to look at Steve. _Artie has nothing but good things to say about Adelie?_

Her partner just smiled.

"And the two of you, you're all right?" Jane asked.

"We're fine," Steve said.

"He says," Claudia muttered.

The Regent smiled. "Good."

The door to the procedure room swung open and Dr. Calder stood there. "Oh, good, you're here," she said to Claudia.

"_That's_ never good," Claudia said.

Dr. Calder smiled. "She keeps shocking Artie."

"By doing what?" Claudia could think of several things Adelie had done that were shocking, but none of them that could be repeated over and over.

"Rerouting an electrical charge off something," Vanessa said. "I think it's the ground-prong on one the oxygen compressor, so I'm going to see if I can get it properly grounded."

"Oh, actual shocking."

"Will you come and sit with her? Artie and Mrs. Frederic and I need to have a talk," Vanessa said. "Jane, would you join us?"

"My pleasure," Jane said.

Claudia followed Vanessa into the procedure room. Adelie was on the treatment table, curled up with her back to the door. A larger mask had been fitted over her face, pumping more oxygen to her. White bandages now covered the majority of the Tesla burn. An IV had been inserted into the back of her non-burned hand and curling tubing was pumping fluids into her. The table was ringed by Artie, Mrs. Frederic, and a tall, broad-shouldered man in an obnoxiously-bright Hawaiian shirt and khakis who was apparently Dr. Calder's associate.

"Adelie, Claudia's here," Vanessa said. She turned to Claudia and said, softly, "We're giving her some heavy-duty painkillers, so she might be a little loopy. And she's not a fan of the mask, or the IV either. She keeps trying to pull them off."

"Thank God," Artie said. He seemed to be smoking slightly. He turned to Claudia. "You, my dear, are a saint."

"Take it up with the man upstairs," Claudia said. She yanked a chair from the corner of the room and sat down so she was close to Adelie's face. "Hi, sweetheart."

"We'll be back in just a few minutes," Vanessa said, and she, Mrs. Frederic, the Hawaiian-shirted man, and Artie left.

The room seemed suddenly empty. The whooshing sound of the oxygen and the rhythmic _drip_ of fluids through the IV tubing created a backbeat. Adelie's eyes stayed closed, but she reached out for Claudia.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Claudia said. She took Adelie's hand in hers and gently curled her fingers around the girl's. "So, you met Mrs. Frederic. Isn't she great?"

Adelie gave a small smile behind the oxygen mask.

"Don't tell anyone, but there's a rumor going around that I'm going to get her job," Claudia said. She was unsure of where the words were coming from. It was true, yes, but she was still uncomfortable about discussing the future's path aloud. It seemed like bad luck… except here, now, was someone who understood all too keenly the disappointments of the past and the uncertainty of the future.

"Piano," Adelie rasped, and she squeezed Claudia's hand tighter. "Piano, please."

"Soon, sweetie," Claudia said. "Soon. When you're feeling better."

She brushed Adelie's hair away from her face. "Thank you for showing me… what you showed me," Claudia said. "I know it must have hurt. Memories aren't always the nicest thing, huh?"

"Piano," Adelie repeated, her eyes flickering open. For a moment she let go of Claudia's hand and pushed the oxygen mask up on her face. "Piano," she said.

Claudia gently louvered the mask back into place. "Dr. Vanessa won't like if you take that off," she said.

"Hmm," Adelie said, but she didn't fight the mask. Her eyes drooped closed.

"How about some music?" Claudia asked. "I brought you my iPod."

She carefully fitted her headphones over Adelie's ears and turned the device on. "Let's see… Liszt? I've heard he's the cat's meow."

Once the music was on, Adelie held out her hand again, and Claudia took it. It was odd how the girl's little hand felt _right_ in hers. They had some sort of weird connection, there was no denying. But if it kept Adelie calm enough to keep the oxygen mask on and the IV in, she'd let the girl hold her hand the whole night.

* * *

Steve, for lack of anything better to do, followed the group of two doctors, a senior Warehouse agent, a Regent, and Mrs. Frederic back up to the office. He was intending merely to grab his duffel and head back to the B and B to see if he could get the smell of burned rice out of his clothes, but Artie spotted him and cornered him into a chair.

"I don't really know if I should be here," Steve faltered awkwardly.

"You've spent some time observing our visitor and Miss Donovan," Mrs. Frederic said. "You can give us valuable insight into their relationship, and how we should proceed."

Steve looked wide-eyed between Artie and Mrs. Frederic. "Proceed?"

"Yes," Mrs. Frederic said.

Steve was suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. "You're not going to… bronze her, are you? Or wipe her memory? Or… kneecap her?"

"Kneecap?" Jane Latimer asked, looking confused.

"We are not in the business of bronzing teenage savants," Mrs. Frederic said, something like an amused look sparkling in her dark eyes. "Ask Miss Donovan about that some time."

She approached Steve and sat down in an adjacent chair. "My understanding, Agent Jinks, is that our visitor came to us, _however_ she came to us, from a psychiatric facility in Illinois. A facility which, after some investigation, seems to be an absolutely terrible place for such a bright young woman."

Steve looked over at Artie. "Are we going to… keep her?"

"It is one of the options," Mrs. Frederic said. "She seems to have a very interesting and deep connection with Miss Donovan."

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "Adelie shows Claudia all these things… like where the music box came from. They have something that goes beyond words."

"It's odd that someone we were unaware of could have a connection to two artifacts," Jane said.

Mrs. Frederic turned and looked at the music box. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," Steve said.

"I see." Mrs. Frederic looked at Dr. Calder. "What is her medical prognosis?"

"If we can't figure out how the Tesla burn is changing the molecular composition of her skin and structural layers, the burn will more than likely engulf her whole body. Right now it's still moving down her arm, and large parts of the burn on her chest have become necrotic. In addition, the effect of the burn has gone internal, which is why she's having such trouble breathing. The fluids and painkillers we've given her will slow the effects and make her comfortable, but unless we can give her something stronger than an ointment of neutralizer and Joseph Priestley's soda water, I think she'll be in trouble. That's why I asked Dr. Rogers here to assist me. He wrote his thesis on unusual presentations in Tesla burns," Dr. Calder said, indicating the man in the Hawaiian shirt. "We're working on something that will hopefully turn out to be a cure, but in the meantime we just need to keep her comfortable."

"She wants to play the piano," Steve blurted without thinking. The second the words were out of his mouth he knew they were the right ones, but he hoped he wasn't stepping on anyone's toes.

"Once the fluids are in and we've given her a little time to adjust to the painkillers and the oxygen, I don't have a problem with that," Vanessa said, and she smiled at Steve.

Mrs. Frederic turned her gaze to the man in the Hawaiian shirt. "Dr. Rogers, do you have sufficient equipment and supplies to assist Dr. Calder with a cure for our visitor?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dr. Rogers said. "Your treatment space here is more than adequate."

"Good," Mrs. Frederic said. "Jane, what is the Regents' position?"

"Obviously we're a bit worried," Jane answered. "It is difficult for us to understand how a person just _arrives_ at the Warehouse, but even we can concede that it's possible for artifacts to interact in ways that we can't understand yet."

"Agents Bering and Latimer are bringing back the St. Catherine of Siena statue," Artie interjected. "They were having some difficulty neutralizing it, so we'll do that as soon as they get back." He checked his watch. "Should be any minute now."

"Good," Mrs. Frederic said. She stood. "Keep me apprised of the situation. Jane?"

"Coming," Jane said, and the two women headed out into the Umbilicus.

"We'll head back down to continue our work," Dr. Rogers said, and Dr. Calder followed.

This left Steve and Artie together in the middle of the office.

"When I last spoke to Myka, she said she and Pete had discovered some movies created by a charlatan doctor who was 'treating' Adelie," Artie said. "I want you to go over those movies with Pete. See if you can learn anything about how the electric shock treatment she gave Adelie could have caused the strange reaction to the Tesla."

"Sure," Steve said.

"Myka and I will focus on figuring out how Saint Catherine of Siena got into the ground at the hospital," Artie continued. "And how it transported our visitor here."

"I thought you already knew how it transported her," Steve said.

"We had a theory," Artie said. "It's just a theory, though. No concrete evidence of anything yet. Much like everything else connected to our mysterious visitor."

He turned, moving towards the card catalog.

"Artie," Steve said.

"Hmm?"

"Claudia found Adelie's mother."

Artie stopped. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah. I tried to stop her, but…"

"Like asking a bird not to fly," Artie scoffed.

"Something like that," Steve agreed. "They wouldn't… send Adelie _back_ to her, would they?"

"It's unlikely," Artie said.

"But we can't keep her, can we?"

"That is also unlikely, Agent Jinks," Artie said. "But until the Regents and Mrs. Frederic make a decision, she's ours, and we will do all we can to protect her."

There was a clatter from the Umbilicus, clearly followed by Myka's voice: "Pete, look out! You almost took her head off!"

"It's just… _heavy!"_ Pete grunted.

The door swung open to admit the two agents, who were looking a bit worse for the wear. Both agents had mud splattered all over them. Pete was lugging an immense statue of a nun in a painted habit; the statue's arms were outstretched as though she was giving a blessing to whatever was in front of her – at the moment, Pete's mud-encrusted knees.

Pete managed to heft the statue onto the rug and propped it upright. "There ya go, you old battle axe," he said, somewhat fondly, to the statue. "Hey, Jinksy. I thought you were with your Zen brothers singing rama-lama-ding-dong."

"Somebody is going to have to teach you guys the difference between Buddhists and Hare Krishnas," Steve said.

"Don't even try," Myka said. "I've been trying to teach Pete the difference between antiperspirant and deodorant for three years."

"There's a difference?" Artie and Steve asked simultaneously.

"The way Myka tells it, they're as dissimilar as peas and carrots."

"Two separate things, Pete, for two separate situations," Myka said.

Artie's Farnsworth started vibrating. "You two," he said, indicating Pete and Steve as he crossed the office to grab the device, "hole up in here and watch those videos. Dr. Calder and Dr. Rogers need anything you can give them. And you," he said, indicating Myka, "are coming with me down to the Prussian Quadrangle. I want to see if we can provoke our saint into giving us some clues."

He flipped open the Farnsworth. "Yeah?"

"She fell asleep," Claudia said. "Do you want me to… come back up and help?"

"No," Artie said.

"Are you sure? There's probably a lot to do… and there's always inventory."

"I want you to stay down there," Artie said. "I think there's a cot in the closet across the hall. Get some rest. Please."

"Okay, 'cause I can come up and help with…"

Artie cut her off gently. "Claudia. You are exhausted. You are not making any sense. Get some sleep. Vanessa will let you know if she needs anything."

"Okay," Claudia said. "If Fargo calls, can you… can you talk to him? He's supposed to call. He's supposed to call about the thing with the lights that goes like this…"

She yawned and waved her hand half-heartedly at the Farnsworth screen.

"We'll take care of it," Artie said. "Go. To. Sleep."

He closed the Farnsworth.

"Things haven't been going well here, have they?" Myka asked.

"Just another day at the Warehouse, honestly," Steve said. "But don't ask me to explain any of it."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Enjoy!

* * *

"Joshua? Mrs. Frederic?" Claudia was turning around and around, the gray-white dream world closing in around her. "Adelie?"

There was piano music – although it seemed like there was always piano music lately. "Adelie?"

And then, suddenly, there she was. But not at the piano. On the floor, hands over her eyes, looking impossibly young in a pair of footed pink pajamas, rocking back and forth. But in place of her usual eerie cry, words were spilling out of her mouth: "Go to bed. It's time to go to bed. Go to bed. Go to sleep. Sleep, sleep. And when you wake up, breakfast. Breakfast in the morning. Go downstairs. Eat breakfast. Eat breakfast. But sleep first. Go to bed. It's time to go to bed. Piano now? No, no piano now. Piano later. Go to sleep now. Sleep. Stay in bed. Stay in bed. Don't get up. If you get up –…"

Her head jerked up and her eyes flitted back and forth. And then she sucked in a big breath and screamed.

Claudia whirled around, looking for the source of Adelie's terror.

It was a man in a doctor's coat, looking angry. "Adelie, we talked about this," he said. "Nurse Anton told you to stay in bed. And you didn't. So you're going to see Dr. Hanover."

He strode forward, reaching out for Adelie.

Claudia grabbed for Adelie, trying to get her out of the doctor's grasp. But her hands couldn't get ahold of the girl, and the doctor yanked her upright by her arms and pulled her towards him.

And then, as though he was burned, he threw her backwards forcefully, staring down at his hands. "What the hell?"

Adelie stumbled backwards, away from the doctor, keeping up her repetitive conversation with herself: "Stay in bed. Stay in bed. Go to sleep and stay in bed. No piano now. Piano later. Stay in bed. Don't get up. Don't get up. If you get up – bad girl, don't get up. Don't get up. Bad girl."

She stretched her hands out, reaching for something. Claudia turned back to look at the doctor. He was still staring at his hands, which were turning black and smoking slightly. "What the _hell?"_

And then he looked up at Claudia, as though he could see her. "_You_ did this," he said. "You were the one who encouraged her to leave! She came to South Dakota because of _you!"_

"No," Claudia protested. "No, definitely not me. Wait, why am I arguing with a dream?"

"Because, Claudia," the doctor said, and then suddenly he was _her_ doctor.

"Dr. Michener? This is really getting old," Claudia said, but she could feel her heart start to race. She curled her hands into fists so he couldn't see her shaking. "You have _got_ to get a better day job. Or better night job, technically."

"Claudia," the doctor said, "are you really arguing with a dream?"

"Hey, you started it!" she argued.

"Claudia," someone else said, and a dark, winged something flashed by her head. She threw her hands up as though fighting off a bird. The shadow passed and she was left with a searing, stabbing pain in her nose. She brought one hand up to her face and brought her fingers away bright red with a nosebleed.

"_Claudia!"_

* * *

And there she was, awake in the procedure room, suddenly aware of Steve and Artie bending over her, and Pete in the back corner holding his hand as though it had hit something very, very hard.

"Are you sure that did anything, Jinksy?" Pete asked, staring down at his knuckles. "'Cause it didn't seem to…"

He looked over at Claudia. "Oh, damn, it did. Sorry, Claud."

"What?" Claudia asked. Her nose hurt.

"Nose," Steve said, and Artie handed her a handkerchief.

"You punched Steve?" she asked Pete, her voice muffled as she held the handkerchief up to her bleeding nose.

"He _asked_ me to!" Pete protested.

"You weren't responding," Steve pointed out. "You were…"

"I was _asleep_! And now I'm _bleeding!"_

"Hey! If the lot of you can't be quiet, then get out of here." The doctor in the Hawaiian shirt was at the door of the procedure room. "Our girl needs her rest if she's going to survive whatever treatment we're working on."

"Come on," Steve said to Claudia, and hauled her up off the cot. "Let's go get you a Popsicle."

"A Popsicle?" she asked, the handkerchief still pressed to her face.

"Yes. I brought them back from the B and B. I need one after eating all that rice, and after taking a punch to the face for me, you deserve one," Steve said.

"Plus, Myka needs some help with our long-lost saint," Pete said, trying to shake the ache out of his hand. "_Ow."_

* * *

Claudia sat on the couch in the office, slurping away at a lime green Popsicle. "What's the problem, Myka?"

"We neutralized it," Myka said, "and nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?" Artie asked, coming in with a book.

"And_ nothing_," Myka said. "Saint Catherine is an enigma."

"Did you take the shroud out of the base?" Artie asked.

"There's a _shroud_ in there?" Pete stared at the statue.

"I told you that!" Artie said.

"Would that have affected the neutralizing?" Myka wanted to know.

"Well, of course it would have," Artie said. "The statue's not the artifact. The shroud is."

"Great," Myka said. "So we wasted all that neutralizer for nothing."

"Not if you want a neutralizer foot bath," Pete said, staring down at the plastic kiddie pool now full of neutralizer. "Do you want a neutralizer foot bath?"

Steve took a careful lick of his cherry Popsicle. "I'm going to say… no?"

"Help me with this," Myka said to Pete. Together they wrestled the statue to the floor, looking for the compartment that contained the shroud.

"What do you need my help with?" Claudia wanted to know. "Was any of this more important than my nap?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Artie said. "The shroud isn't necessarily known for its translocation powers."

"So you need me for…?"

"We need to figure out how the electricity that Pete saw in the fence transferred between Adelie and the shroud," Artie said.

"Anything you know could help us, Claud," Myka said.

"What about the metal rod in her arm?" Claudia asked.

The room went still.

"She has a metal rod in her arm?"

"Yeah," Claudia said. "That's how the bone ended up in the music box. Her mother took it out and replaced it with a metal rod."

"Would that do it?" Myka asked Artie.

"I'll have to look," he said, and dropped into a seat at the table, reaching for one of his books.

Pete stared at the statue's base. "I can't see there's any compartment in here," he said. "Then again, it's all covered in dirt and neutralizer, so… what do I know?"

"Here," Claudia said, and handed him Artie's handkerchief.

"Um, ew," Pete said, holding it up by one unstained corner. "Why would you…?"

She shrugged and licked her Popsicle.

He dropped it on the desk and settled for wiping off the base of the statue as best he could with his purple-gloved hands.

"How about this?" Myka said, and pulled her pocket knife out.

Pete took the knife, flipped it open, and started scraping away at the base of the statue.

"You think the rod in her arm created some sort of circuit with this thing?" Steve asked, watching Pete with interest.

"It explains a lot," Myka said. "Why the electricity was in the fence… how it amplified the artifact's effects…"

"It doesn't explain the translocation," Artie said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"It doesn't?" Claudia turned to look at him.

"No. The shroud is supposed to heal bodily ills," Artie said. "Never in its recorded history has the shroud ever caused someone to translocate."

"I don't mean to be the one to point this out, but Adelie has a lot of attributes that are unusual," Steve said. "Could she have… brought something to the party that… caused our saint to dance a little funny?"

Now the attention in the room shifted to him.

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "I've obviously been out of touch with reality for far too long."

"Jinksy's got a point," Pete said. "I mean, our special guest…? She's doing some unexplainable stuff. It only stands to reason that some unexplainable stuff would happen when she interacted with an artifact."

"So she created a circuit," Myka said, "Fence to metal arm rod to statue to…?"

"To music box," Claudia said, raising her Popsicle in salute.

"And what? To South Dakota? No, no," Artie said.

"Artie, stranger things have happened," Myka said. "And as long as we don't know what the music box does, it's still possible."

"I found it!" Pete exclaimed, holding Myka's knife aloft. On the end was a fat green wax stopper.

Myka peered down at the hole created in the base by the absence of the stopper. "Tweezers," she said to Pete.

He worked the stopper off the end of the knife and handed it to Myka. She pried open the tweezers and carefully inserted them into the statue's base. After a second or two of rummaging around, Myka pulled out a rolled piece of brown cloth. As she held it up in the air, a crackle of static energy arced between the shroud and the music box, still sitting on Artie's desk.

"Neutralize that thing!" Artie hollered as everyone ducked.

Myka stuck the shroud into the neutralizer kiddie pool. There was a bright flash of light and a crackle of energy.

"I've got it," Claudia said as Myka pulled the shroud out of the neutralizer.

"Got what?" Artie asked.

"The whole bodily-ills thing," Claudia said. "Adelie's bodily ill – at least, the one that would be most obvious to Saint Catherine…"

"I don't think the statue _chooses_ how it helps someone," Artie said. "That's science fiction."

"We work in a warehouse full of mystical objects," Steve pointed out.

"Okay," Artie allowed, "that's… um… counter-intuitive."

"Adelie's bodily ill is two things," Claudia went on. "But the biggest one would be the fact that she's been living in a hell-hole of a psychiatric hospital where nobody cares about her. Wouldn't it be possible that the saint statue took _that_ as Adelie's bodily ill, and when she tried to help Adelie leave, there was some sort of short circuit between the fence and the metal in Adelie's arm?"

"A short circuit that brought her to South Dakota."

"Well, if you're going to try to disprove _every_ part of my theory," Claudia grumbled, and took another bite of her Popsicle.

"What does Dr. Calder think about the metal rod?" Steve asked Artie.

Artie looked confused.

"Dr. Calder doesn't know about the metal rod," Steve rephrased.

"Right," Artie said.

"Someone should probably tell her," Myka said.

Everyone turned to look at Artie.

"Oh! Yeah, I'll go tell her. Pete, clean up the saint," Artie said. "There's room down in the Saints and Sinners section whenever she's ready."

"Wait," Claudia said as Artie was preparing to leave the office. "What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"We neutralized the shroud… what happens?"

"Well, I infer from the lack of confused shouting from downstairs that Adelie hasn't magically disappeared," Artie said. "And since I don't think Saint Catherine had anything to do with the Tesla burn, my guess is that's still an issue."

"Maybe the effect isn't here," Pete said, staring down at the saint in the kiddie pool. "Maybe something happened back in Illinois."

"One can only hope," Artie said, heading out of the office.

Claudia ate the rest of her Popsicle and looked over at the music box. "Pete, grab my tool box," she said.

"What? What for?" he asked, stepping away from the kiddie pool.

"I need my ear muffs," Claudia said.

"Oh, Claud, no," Myka said. "Artie said not to…"

"We neutralized the shroud. The music box is our next best guess," Claudia said, warming to the idea. "If we play it, we'll know what it does."

"What if it's a killer music box?" Pete asked.

"I highly doubt it's a killer music box," Steve said.

"After all, Pete, nobody at the hospital reported… _dying_," Myka said.

"Fine, fine," Pete groused as he flipped the tool box open. "So there's one pair of ear protectors in here. What about the one… two… three of us without ear muffs?"

Claudia shrugged. "Go out in the Umbilicus and close the door. That thing's meant to protect us from bombs. I think it can handle a music box."

"What if the music box causes piranhas to escape?"

"Then we'll be all right, as I understand that piranhas like water," Steve said.

"Whose side are you on, Jinksy?" Pete demanded.

"Well, Claudia's my partner… and she did take a punch to the face for me today," Steve said. "So…"

"We were partners once!" Pete pointed out.

"Pete, do you _want_ to listen to the killer music box?" Myka asked.

"No!"

"And I'm sure Steve will punch _you_ in the face any time you want," Myka said.

"He better not," Claudia said as she took the ear muffs from Pete. "My nose already hurts, I don't need my knuckles to hurt too. Myka, you can punch Pete."

"The things I do for the team," Myka said, laughing.

"I don't like that laugh," Pete said. "That's the laugh that means Pete's going to regret something."

"You know me so well," Myka said.

The two of them laughed as they went out into the Umbilicus.

"Claud, do you want me to do this?" Steve asked.

"Because _that's_ such a good idea," she said, tossing her Popsicle stick into the garbage can.

"Well, I'm at least going to stand out on the balcony and plug my ears and _watch_ you," Steve said.

"I don't think that's a good idea either."

"Somebody needs to keep a watch out for Artie."

Claudia thought about this. "Good thinking, Jinksy."

Then she grinned. "There's an extra set of ear protectors in the tool box."

Once Steve was in place with the ear muffs on, standing on the balcony, keeping a look out for Artie, Claudia slid her own ear muffs on and looked down at the music box.

"Strange how something so innocent-looking has caused so much controversy and confusion," she said, staring at the bone-and-glass inner workings as she tentatively took hold of the music box's handle. "Let's see what you're all about."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Thank you so much to all my readers and reviewers and followers. You guys are great!

I had a reviewer who asked where my knowledge about autism and savants came from. Some of it comes from personal experience working with people with autism, and the rest comes from research.

Enjoy!

* * *

At first nothing happened. Claudia merely twirled the thin silver handle, feeling like nothing was moving. Then the inner gears caught the roll of bone, creating a grating feeling that radiated up Claudia's arm and translated into a feeling that rose above sound.

She could hear her breathing, echoing through the ear muffs. But she was calm. Strangely calm.

Way too calm for someone about to play with an artifact.

* * *

Downstairs, as Dr. Rogers and Dr. Calder were setting up a laser therapy wand, Adelie opened her eyes. She tried to sit up, shaking her head fervently in the hope that she could get the oxygen mask off her face.

Her ankles and wrists were tethered to the treatment table with soft Velcro restraints.

"Adelie, it's okay," Dr. Calder said, leaning over the table.

Adelie kicked out with her left foot. Nothing. She kicked out again with her right foot – still nothing.

But she could hear the music box, even all the way down here. She had to get up. She had to stop it.

"Adelie, you have to lie still," Vanessa said. "We're going to try a laser wand on your burn, all right? It's going to make you feel better."

Adelie wrenched herself from one side to the next, trying to free her wrists. The IV needle jabbed farther into her arm and she howled at both the pain and the indignity of being restrained.

_I have to get up! I have to get up! I have to stop them!_

The door to the treatment room opened and Artie came in. "Vanessa, there's…"

He looked down at Adelie. "Why did you restrain her?"

"Because I need her to lie still," Vanessa said. "I don't want her to move when we turned the laser on."

"You're treating a laser burn… with a laser? Forgive me if I don't understand the medical principles."

"Artie, what are you doing down here?"

"She has a metal rod in her arm," Artie said. "But I don't think you should restrain her."

"Artie, if she moves, the laser could burn her neck by the carotid, and I don't want to deal with that."

Adelie whimpered, trying to reach up for Artie. He understood. He knew she couldn't be tied down. The doctor would come back – the doctor would have the machine. And Adelie was _not_ going to let them shock her again.

"Can't you just explain that to her? I'm sure if she understood…"

Adelie went rigid. _The music_. She could hear it. They were _playing_ with her music box!

Now she _had_ to get loose.

She rolled her head to one side and pulled her wrist towards her mouth. She had bitten off restraints before.

"She seems agitated," Artie said.

"Of course she seems agitated," Vanessa said, a bit sharply. "Wouldn't you be, if you had suffered a Tesla burn with limited access to painkillers?"

"I think it's because she's restrained."

"Artie, severing the carotid artery is bad news," Vanessa said. "Now, was there something you needed? We really need to get to work on her treatment."

"Didn't you hear me? She has a metal rod in her arm."

"Good. I'll take that into consideration."

The restraint was fastened on the far side. Difficult, but not impossible. Adelie took a deep breath and tried to pull herself up from the table. Her shoulder gave a loud _pop_ and she squealed in pain.

"Let her go!" Artie demanded, and moved to Adelie's side, opening the restraints holding her arms to the table. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Let me undo…"

He quickly undid the restraints holding her feet to the table.

"Artie!" Vanessa protested. "I told you not to do that!"

She moved towards Adelie, obviously with the intent of putting the restraints back on.

Adelie was waiting for her. She pulled her leg back and kicked Vanessa squarely in the stomach. The doctor went over onto the floor, knocking over the laser wand rig as she went.

"Adelie!" Artie said. "Adelie, stop!"

But Adelie didn't hear him – she was consumed. All she heard was the music echoing from upstairs.

It was _her_ music box.

_Hers_.

* * *

"Claudia, what's going on?" Steve called from the balcony.

"I don't know!" Claudia called back.

"Is there any music coming out?"

"Not that I can tell," Claudia called. "Maybe I should take off the ear muffs."

"No!" Steve protested. "That's what it wants you to do!"

"Steve, you're a nut-case," Claudia said. "The music box isn't telling me anything."

She looked down at the twist of bone, going around and around under her slightly-shaking fingers. "You're not telling me anything, are you? Great, now I'm talking to it."

"WHAT?" Steve hollered from the balcony.

"I'M TALKING TO IT!" Claudia yelled back.

"WELL, STOP IT! NOTHING GOOD EVER COMES OF TALKING TO THE ARTIFACTS!"

She jerked her head towards the balcony and made a somewhat rude, dismissive hand gesture.

Claudia slowly pushed the ear muffs back, still cranking away at the music box. There was no music in the room, just the slow _grr-grr_ of the bone roll rasping against the glass and metal innards of the box.

"Claudia! Put your ear muffs back on!"

"There's no music!" Claudia said. "It's just –…"

She looked up, searching for Steve's crouched form on the balcony.

Instead there was nothing. Well, not nothing – but the office had disappeared. She was still standing, fragilely, hand gripped firmly around the music box's handle, but the office was gone. She was in a hospital room, standing silently. She knew it was wrong – it _felt_ wrong, deep down in her soul – but her hand was frozen on the music box's handle, going around and around and _around_ like a crazed monkey on a tricycle.

Claudia took one hesitant step forward. Then another. Fingers still cranking at the music box.

There was a figure in the bed before her. It had a familiar face.

Claudia felt her heart _crack_ in two, but her fingers still refused to stop. Around and around and around.

And now she could hear, forcefully, frantically, the music.

* * *

Steve stared at Claudia. The redhead had removed her ear muffs and stood in the middle of the office with the music box pressed against her. There was no music coming out; Steve could tell that even without moving. But Claudia was staring up, her eyes wide, as though she was listening to something horrifying.

And he could see it clearly, now, even from his position on the balcony – blood, dripping down from Claudia's nose, a reoccurrence of the earlier bloody nose.

"Claudia!" he yelled. "Put the music box down!"

The slow drip of blood from Claudia's nose to her shirt collar made Steve think of Pete, who had been the one to cause the bloody nose. And in his muddled stare at Claudia, Steve realized they weren't alone.

"Myka! Pete!" he yelled. He pressed his ear muffs tighter over his ears as he hurried through the office.

At the door to the Umbilicus he stopped and stared at the door key pad. "Pete! Myka! Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Steve thought back to his arrival at the Warehouse that day. After he'd hit his head on the door, he could remember Claudia tapping in the new key code. If he could just remember…

The code came back to him suddenly, strange music in a completely silent room. _Three little maids from school are we_… he sang, and tapped in the corresponding numeric values.

The door swung open, and Pete jerked around. "Jinksy, what is it?"

"Claudia," Steve panted, ripping off his ear muffs.

* * *

"Steve," Claudia said, taking another step forward. "Steve… what happened?"

The man in the hospital bed was her partner, but he wasn't. He was thinner. Smaller. And decidedly unhealthier.

She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to reassure herself that it was unreal. But her fingers were locked around the music box.

"Jinksy," she whispered, but the music ate it up.

It was terrifying, stilted, unreassuringly vanilla. Around and around the notes went. Up and down the scale, weaving a melody in and out like skaters on an iced pond. In fact, that was the title of the song, Claudia thought, _The Skaters' Waltz_. It was something played at nursing homes and preschool ballet recitals.

"Jinksy," she tried again, her voice no louder than before. "Jinksy, wake up."

* * *

"What happened?" Myka demanded as they rushed into the office.

"There's no music," Pete said, pointing to the music box.

"You really think that's the biggest problem we have right now?" Steve asked.

"Claudia?" Myka put one hand on the redhead's shoulder and shook it gently. "Claudia, can you hear me?"

The Farnsworth started vibrating on the desk.

Claudia's body jerked forward, as though she had been struck by electricity.

The Farnsworth vibrated again, and Claudia jerked forward again.

"Answer it!" Myka said to Pete.

Pete scrambled across the office and grabbed the Farnsworth. "Yeah?"

It was Artie, his glasses askew. "She's gone!"

"What? Artemis, did somebody punch you?"

"She got out!"

"She needs a tracking device," Steve said.

"It's a good idea," Pete said.

"Pete! What is going on up there?" Artie asked, his face close to the screen.

"Um, well…"

"_Is someone playing the music box?"_ Artie demanded.

Pete didn't think it was possible, but the eyebrows loomed even larger. "Um, I suppose that could be the general term for…"

"Do you think I just make up rules because I like to hear myself talk?" Artie yelled. "Do you ever think I tell you things _for your own safety?"_

"Artie, not that I don't want to have this conversation," Pete said, "but could you save it for Claudia when she comes out of her coma?"

"_Augggh!"_

Pete closed the Farnsworth before Artie's head could explode. "Okay, we've got bigger issues."

"Bigger issues than Claudia in some sort of dream state while she's attached to an artifact?"

Pete scanned the office. "Um, so, our special guest is on the loose and probably on her way back up here to exact revenge on whoever started playing the music box."

"And Claudia's in some sort of… coma state," Steve put in.

"Completely defenseless," Pete went on.

"Claudia," Myka said, shaking the girl's shoulder.

"Please don't punch me again," Steve said.

"Why? You didn't feel it," Pete retorted.

"It's just the principle of the thing," Steve replied.

He leaned forward and grabbed Claudia's hand, trying to see if he could get her to stop playing the music box. As their hands connected a bright blue spark erupted into the air, and Steve recoiled.

"I bet you didn't feel that, either," Pete said.

"Oddly enough, neither did she," Steve said. "I'll bet you money."

"I'll take that bet," Pete said. "Loser buys Dairy Queen after we save all our butts."

"Um, guys, not to win the bet, but…" Myka spread her arms out, gesturing the kiddy pool still full of neutralizer from the earlier battle with the saint. "Neutralizer foot bath."

* * *

Adelie stumbled out of the treatment room, hearing clanging behind her. She felt bad for slamming Artie's head into a wall, but she had to escape.

The music was filtering down the hallway, calling to her like grabby fingers on some sticky-fingered ghost. She couldn't have resisted if she'd wanted to.

_Stop it! Stop playing with my music box! STOP IT!_

Her hands slammed against a wall and she frantically grabbed for purchase. Her knees were wobbly and her ankles still hurt from being restrained. There was a dull ache in her head and she just wanted it to _stop_.

She could be grabby. She had sticky fingers.

And the music was _hers_, damn it.

* * *

"Jinksy, get up," Claudia tried to say. The music box was burning into her chest, pressing firmly into her stomach like an angry, fiery fist. She wanted to drop it. She wanted to crawl up into the hospital bed next to Steve and wake him up. He was trapped by wires and tubes, his face angry with bruises and welts. "Jinksy, come on…"

Around and around and _around_, her hand seemed melted to the handle.

"I don't even like this song," Claudia murmured.

The hospital room shook around her, light shimmering down the walls and across the floor.

Something like hope leaped up into her heart. The room wasn't solid. Maybe it wasn't even real.

"I hate this song," Claudia said, a little bit louder.

A bigger flash of light spread down the walls, shaking the floor at its joints.

"This song is terrible!" Claudia said.

The angry fist of the music box was growing, trying to spread up her throat, trying to silence her.

"I hate this song!" she yelled. "_I hate this song!"_

The hospital room shook, shimmered, and twisted into pieces.

"_Don't swallow!"_ somebody yelled.

* * *

Claudia spat and gasped. Her hands were suddenly goopy and hot, and there was something glopping down her head.

"Don't swallow!" Steve repeated. "It's neutralizer!"

In the kiddie pool next to Claudia, the music box sparked and fizzed.

Claudia reached up and smeared the neutralizer off her face. "Hi," she said. "You're not dead."

"Of course I'm not dead," Steve said. "You made sure of that, remember?"

"It's all a little hazy."

"I am, however, up to my knees in neutralizer," Steve said. "So, there's that."

"It's all over my face," Claudia said. "And… ugh, it's in my ears."

The office door banged open and Artie and Vanessa ran in. "What in the _hell?!" _Artie shouted, waving his arms. "I leave you alone for _ten minutes _and…"

"Artie," Vanessa said. "Artie, it looks like they've got it all under control."

"You call _this_…?" Artie waved his arms, his fury seeming to abate as he took in the situation.

Claudia and Steve were in the neutralizer pool, the music box still sparking and fizzing. Myka had taken refuge under one of the desks, holding her Tesla at the ready for some reason. And Pete was on top of the desk, brandishing a rolled-up sheaf of papers.

Pete shrugged a bit self-consciously as Artie's gaze swept over him. "I was… um… going to whack her with 'em if things got out of control. But… um… Jinksy… Jinksy's got things all A-OK."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Hi there, faithful readers and followers! I am so sorry that I was away from you for so long! I hope you will forgive me for my absence. I was participating in National Novel Writing Month, which took up all of my usual fanfic-writing time, but I am DONE with that project now.

This is a somewhat short chapter to ease myself back into things. After this I will have two more chapters for this story. And after that? I have a couple of things planned out.

Enjoy! (And remember, reviews are always love!)

* * *

And just as soon as it had started, the music box's sounds faded away, leaving Adelie in the middle of a hallway, rocked with confusion.

She didn't know where she was.

Her chest hurt.

It hurt to breathe.

There was an IV needle still plunged into the outside of her arm, the tubing dripping something on the floor.

And the music box – the only thing tethering her to the world at the moment – had gone mysteriously silent.

It was just too much.

She stumbled, her hands out, no longer caring if she stayed on her feet or fell.

She fell.

The cement floor was cool against her face and her chest, but she took no comfort in it. She merely lay still, listening to her heart reverberate against the floor, and let the tears flow.

It had been more than ten years since a little girl in footie pajamas had went into a basement, fully trusting in her mother, and emerged on the other side blind and terrified, bound to the world by an object that should have, by all rights and reasons, remained part of her body.

But it was the first day Adelie had ever felt like giving up.

There wasn't any point in living.

She closed her eyes.

And waited to die.

* * *

Pete jumped off the desk and helped Steve lift Claudia out of the kiddie pool. Myka took charge of the music box, yanking on a pair of purple gloves and wrapping the box itself in a few spare clean rags.

"Ugh," Claudia said. "I need a shower."

"What were you thinking?" Artie asked. He had calmed considerably since bursting into the office, but he still looked irritated.

"Um, we weren't," Steve said.

"Some of us were," Claudia said. "Look, we wanted to know what it did, and not using it wasn't telling us anything. Yeah, it was dumb, but…"

"You could just end it right there," Steve said. "Yeah, it was dumb."

"And what did it tell you?" Artie asked.

"Not a whole lot, unfortunately," Claudia said, looking guiltily over at the towel-wrapped artifact. "And nothing about the St. Catherine statue."

"Well, now that you've played it, give it back to the poor girl and leave it alone," Artie said.

"I thought Adelie was down with you," Myka said, peeling off her gloves.

"We thought she was up here," Vanessa said. "She escaped from the treatment room and we assumed she'd come here."

"Nope," Claudia said, shaking her head.

For a moment no one spoke, as though all the tiny wheels and cogs were spinning, trying to put the puzzle together.

"If she's not here…" Steve said at last.

"Then she's in the Warehouse," Pete said.

With that terrifying thought, they all bolted from the office.

* * *

It was too much effort to pick her head up, but Adelie felt a cool hand touch her shoulder. The burned area throbbed a little less.

"My child," a soft voice said, "what are you doing?"

Adelie tried to look up, but her head remained resolutely on the floor.

"My child. Why are you so afraid?"

_Because I'm dying_.

Another cool hand touched her brow, and Adelie felt herself lean into the touch. She hadn't realized it was what she was craving. It felt like drinking cool water.

"My child, I have always been with you and I will never leave you," the soft voice continued. "Yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil, for I am with you."

It was wrong, but Adelie couldn't parse out why.

She tried to prop herself up on her elbows, trying to pull herself forward in a crippled army crawl. The IV line tangled underneath her left elbow and there was a sharp twinge of pain as the IV site bled onto the floor.

And she put her head back down.

And waited to die.

* * *

Myka, Pete, Artie, and Vanessa hurried out into the Warehouse, calling for Adelie. Claudia was about to go after them when an idea occurred to her. She turned and ran back into the office, grabbing St. Catherine's shroud from the desk.

"What are you going to do with that?" Steve asked.

"Heals bodily ills, remember?" Claudia replied, grinning.

"Only if you can find her," Steve said.

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and were about to spread out into the aisles when Steve caught sight of a strange light emanating from a back corridor. "Over here," he called, waving.

They rounded a corner, following a curious sheen of soft, glowing light.

And stopped, aghast, completely confused by the scene before them.

"Is that…?" Steve asked.

"It certainly does seem to resemble…"

Their sweetheart of a visitor, the psychiatric facility escapee who'd showed up in her pajamas, was crumpled on the floor in the middle of the aisle, face down. She was no longer moving. A curly plastic tube wound away from her left arm, dripping clear fluids into a pool of blood slowly spreading out beneath the girl.

And standing before the girl, looking radiant as a vision, was Saint Catherine. Or a miraculous hologram. The nun wore a black habit and a white veil, glowing softly as she hovered in the aisle-way above the unconscious girl. In one of her outstretched hands was a book. The other hand was reaching down towards Adelie, sending out a beam of pure light down to the girl's head.

"The shroud," Steve said to Claudia.

"What?" Claudia asked, her eyes riveted to the saint.

"The shroud," he prompted. "Use it!"

"Really? In _front_ of the saint?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Do you really think that matters now?"

"I guess not," Claudia said.

Still dripping with neutralizer, she crept forward until she was close enough to touch Adelie's shoulder. She pulled the shroud from her pocket and ever-so-carefully put it down on the girl's neck, trying to cover as much of the burn as she could see.

* * *

"My child, I told you that you would never be alone," the soft voice said. "You are never alone."

Adelie felt the cool touch spread across her neck.

"And they have not forgotten you."

The feeling spread over her shoulders like a comfortingly soft cape.

* * *

"Anything?" Steve asked.

"I can't tell," Claudia said.

Gingerly she rolled Adelie towards her. The girl's eyes slid open a little, and she tried to bring her IV-laden arm up to defend herself.

"I'm here to help," Claudia said, looking down at the tiny girl. Adelie's breathing was ragged.

Claudia put the shroud down on the girl's chest and waited for a miracle.

"I'm here to help," the soft voice said.

But it didn't sound like the truth. It sounded like a lie.

Adelie's stomach clenched as her body was rolled away from the cool floor, and she waited for the pain to sweep over her again. She tried to bring her hand up to cover her face, to deflect whatever attack was coming.

"I'm here to help," the soft voice repeated, but it sounded like it was saying, "Don't fight it. Just stop fighting."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Second-to-last chapter! Thanks, guys, it's been a wild ride!

Enjoy!

* * *

Steve tried to get closer to the two girls on the Warehouse floor, but there was something oddly restraining about the glowing light. It was growing from a series of beams emanating from the saint's hands into an arch, then some walls, until it engulfed the girls totally. Steve took a few more steps forward, but something like a gentle fist of pressure whacked him in the sternum. "Claud? You okay?"

"We're fine," Claudia called. "Why? What's going on?"

"I think Saint Catherine wants to have a ladies-only party," Steve said. "I can't get through the light."

"We're fine," Claudia repeated. "Well, that's a huge lie. I'm moderately all right although still gooey, and Adelie is…"

She sighed dejectedly. "I don't know, Steve."

"Just hang on," Steve said. "We'll figure this out. I'm going to go find Pete and Myka. They can help. I'll… I'll be right back."

"Okay," Claudia said.

Inside the tall walls of bright light she cradled Adelie's still body in her arms. "Hear that? Jinksy's going to get us help," she said. "Can you ask the saint what's up with the spotlights? I think the neutralizer is cooking in my ears."

She picked up the shroud and moved it to another blackened, crusty part of the Tesla burn. Heat poured into her hands from Adelie's feverish burned body; the shroud glowed with sharp silver light. "I don't know what the downside to this artifact is, Adelie, but it can't be worse than being dead. I'm so sorry it's come down to this."

* * *

_All fall down. All fall down._

Adelie knew she was being held. She couldn't figure out by whom, or why. Did it matter so much?

She tried to say "_Help_" but her mouth wouldn't work. She brought her arm up again, trying to block out the light so she could try to figure out what was going on.

_Help_.

"I'm here to help," the soft voice said. "But stop fighting."

_No._

_All fall down. All fall down_.

* * *

Steve sprinted down the aisles, hollering for Pete and Myka as he went. Artifacts on shelves blurred past him. He didn't catch sight of a coiled rope in the middle of an aisle in time; his foot caught it and he went tumbling onto the concrete floor.

"Sorry, Claud," he said, and hauled himself upright again.

Myka appeared at the end of the aisle. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"Claudia," Steve panted. "And Saint Catherine."

"What?" Myka asked.

Steve pointed in the direction he'd come from. "Over there. I can't… I can't explain it."

"Show me," Myka said.

They took off running. Steve pointed, trying to give Myka directions. At some point the glowing got bright enough for Myka to figure it out on her own.

"What's going on in there?" Myka asked, slowing as they reached the light.

"Please take me seriously when I say this," Steve said. "It's a miracle."

"Okay, well, that was less helpful than I would have liked," Myka said.

"Sorry," Steve said. "I haven't been part of a miracle before."

Myka looked at the glowing wall of light and stretched out a hand. "Claudia?"

"Myka?"

"Yeah, I'm out here with Steve. What's going on?"

"I think Saint Catherine knows what I'm doing."

Myka looked at Steve. Steve said, "The shroud."

"You're _using_ the shroud?" Myka asked.

"Yeah, and I think it's working," Claudia said. "But I don't think Saint Catherine likes it much. For a saint, she's kinda selfish."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Claudia said. "Although I think the neutralizer is baking into my skin. And I'm never, ever going to wear these jeans again. But I'm okay."

"How's Adelie?"

"She's been better," Claudia said.

"Okay," Myka said. "Do you want us to… do something?"

"The shroud was already neutralized," Steve said. "How can she still be using it?"

"Far be it from me to attempt to figure out an artifact," Myka said. "But we also neutralized the music box, which was the last thing the shroud interacted with. Maybe there's some sort of… reversal effect."

"Oh, _ow_," Claudia said from inside the light.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Did you _fall?"_ she demanded.

Myka looked at Steve. Steve looked sheepish.

"Jinksy, don't lie to me when I'm in a force field created by an angry saint," Claudia said.

"Yes, yes, I fell."

"Damn it, Jinksy."

"I'll be more careful. I promise."

Pete ran up behind them. "What's all this?" he asked, waving his hands at the light wall.

"Saint Catherine's revenge," Myka said.

"Saints can do that?"

"I think we don't know nearly enough about saints," Steve said. "Kind of like your confusion of Hare Krishnas and Buddhists."

"Really, Jinksy, _now?"_ Claudia said from inside the light.

"Claudia's in there?" Pete looked aghast.

"Where did you think I was?"

"She's grouchy," Pete said.

"She's grouchy because I fell," Steve said.

"And not because she's inside a glowing prison?"

"I guess it could be any number of things," Steve agreed.

"So, what do we do?" Pete asked. "I guess 'waiting until it's over' doesn't work."

Myka turned to look at Pete. "Where's the statue?"

Pete pointed to the glowing light. "I thought it was in there."

"We took it out of the neutralizer pool to get Claudia in there," Steve said.

"But it's in there," Pete said, still pointing.

"No," Steve said. "It's back in the office."

"I thought Artie took it back to the Saints and Sinners section," Myka said.

"Good _Lord_, guys, it's not the Hope Diamond!" Claudia exclaimed. "It's a _statue!_ How do you forget where it is?"

"Is it in there with you?"

There was a pause.

"Claudia?"

"No," Claudia said. "Sorry. I just tried to touch the saint, and she's looking at me like I'm crazy. Wow, I've missed _that_ look. Hey, Saint Catherine, back off!"

"So it's not a statue?"

"Unless this is an episode of 'Dr. Who,' no. But just to be sure, I'm trying not to blink…"

"You know, things around here would make a lot more sense if it _was_ a TV show," Pete said.

"You on a TV show?" Myka asked. "Who would watch that?"

"My mom," Pete said. "And Ralph Brunksy. And if we close-caption it, my sister would probably tune in."

"Great," Steve said.

"And it would be the highest-rated show on NBC," Pete said.

"That poor network." Myka shook her head.

"Hey, 'Saturday Night Live' is still doing okay," Steve said. "And they had a big boost during the Olympics."

"Man, I love the Olympics," Pete said. "Diving? That's some awesome stuff."

"Yeah, Artie and I watched the synchronized swimming," Steve said. "Did you know Dr. Calder did that when she was in college?"

"Guys, not that this isn't helping, 'cause I'm sure it's helping _someone," _Claudia said, "but pissed-off saint, big wall of light, dying girl, neutralizer-soaked Claudia. Can we refocus?"

"Right," Myka said. "Pete, go back to the Saints and Sinners section. Steve and I will go to the office. If you find Saint Catherine, drag her back here. And if you see anything that'll help, grab it!"

"Right," Pete said, and he turned around, running through the aisles.

"Claud?" Steve asked, pausing to stare at the bubble of light.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"We have _got_ to work on your conversation skills, Jinksy," Claudia said. "I'm still all right. Although I'm getting kind of hot, and I'm really, _really_ thirsty. So if you see a cold glass of water…"

"I'm on it," Steve said.

"Come on," Myka said.

Steve looked back over his shoulder at the pod of light, still unable to shake the conviction that something was wrong.

* * *

"How's things, Adelie?" Claudia asked, shifting the girl's body in her arms. "The burn looks better. Less black, less crusty… more gnarly scar tissue. But I'm told that guys dig scars. Or is that pirates? Huh. Does it feel better?"

Adelie moaned.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Claudia said. "Once we get out of here, Dr. Vanessa will fix you right up. Her, or that Hawaiian shirt guy. He makes me think of a 'Biography' episode I watched on Don Ho once when I was in the psych hospital. Have you heard of Don Ho? Great guy, but I can't think of him without wanting to sing."

She carefully moved the shroud to another part of the burn and pressed down lightly. "_Tiny bubbles… in the wine… make me feel happy… make me feel fine…"_

The light above them seemed to press down a bit.

"I don't think the saint likes me singing about alcohol," Claudia said to Adelie. "But she never met Don Ho."

The redhead looked up at Saint Catherine. "So, listen, since there's really nowhere to go… let's talk about this. Did _you_ yank Adelie out of a psych hospital in Illinois and dump her in the Warehouse?"

Saint Catherine raised the book in her hand.

"No need to hit me with that," Claudia said quickly. "I'm just asking, since we seem to have exhausted all other possibilities. It wasn't the music box. It wasn't the rod in her arm. That leaves you. Dear God, I'm talking to a saint. Sorry, no offense meant, but seriously…"

"_Hurt_," Adelie whispered.

Claudia looked down at the girl. Her eyes were still closed and the sharp silver light was still pouring out from underneath the shroud. But there was no doubt who had spoken; as Claudia watched, Adelie repeated herself, her gray-blue lips moving slowly: "_Hurt."_

"I know," Claudia said. "We're working on it."

Adelie opened her eyes and shook her head gingerly. She raised her non-IV-needled arm and pressed her palm flat against her forehead. "_Zzzttt_," she intoned. "_Hurt_."

"The bad doctor?" Claudia asked.

"_Hurt_."

"The bad doctor did it? But she was… she was in prison way before you fell into the Warehouse," Claudia said.

"_Zzttt… piano_," Adelie clarified.

It didn't make sense. How could Dr. Hanover have electrified the piano? And even if it was true, how in the world had a negative reinforcement tactic transported Adelie all the way to South Dakota?

Unless…

"Adelie, which piano?" Claudia asked.

Adelie brought both hands up, but instead of moving her fingers along invisible keys, she instead mimed turning a handle. "_Zzzt…"_ she murmured. "_All fall down."_

* * *

Pete was hurrying back through the Warehouse aisles when he caught sight of Artie and Vanessa, still calling out for Adelie. "Artemis! We found her!"

"What? Where?" Artie asked.

"Um, I don't remember," Pete said.

Artie looked at him exasperatedly.

"But head towards the glowy light, you can't miss it," Pete said. "Listen, did we move Saint Catherine down to Saints and Sinners?"

"No," Artie said. "She went to the Prussian Quadrangle."

Pete resisted the urge to groan aloud. He wasn't going to ruin the moment by telling Artie that he couldn't find the Prussian Quadrangle with a map, a beret-wearing guide, and a backpack full of trail mix.

"We wanted to see if there was anything strange going on with the statue itself," Artie reminded Pete.

"And she's still there?"

"Unless she grew legs and walked away," Artie snapped sarcastically. "What kind of question is that?"

"Well, when you find Claudia and Adelie, you'll realize exactly why I asked," Pete said. "Thanks, Artie."

He hurried down the aisle, pausing almost imperceptibly at the end.

"Left!" Artie prompted, and Pete disappeared.

* * *

Myka and Steve made it back to the office in record time.

"No statue," Steve said, scanning the area rapidly.

"Nope," Myka said.

"Okay, so, what's Plan B?"

"I don't know," Myka said. "But grab the music box."

"What? Why?"

"Pete would say I'm attempting to horn in on 'his thing,' but I'm getting a feeling that we need it," Myka said.

"Okay, sure," Steve said, and he scooped up the towel-wrapped music box from the desk.

* * *

They weren't the first ones back to the pod of light; Artie and Vanessa were already standing there, taking in the sight, when they returned from the office.

"What's going on?" Artie asked Myka.

"I already told you, Artie, no one knows," Claudia said from inside the light.

"We're hoping Saint Catherine will tell us," Myka replied. "Pete went to get her."

"Um, Myka? I think the music box is… vibrating," Steve said.

He quickly unwrapped the towels. Sure enough, the music box was shuddering, buzzing. As Steve got closer to the walls of light, the vibration grew stronger.

"I can't hold onto it," he panted as the music box tried to jump out of his hands.

"Let it go," Artie suggested.

Steve carefully set it on the floor and the music box disappeared into the glowing light.

"That was unexpected," Myka said.

"Claudia? Do you see the music box?" Artie called.

"Yeah."

"What's it doing?"

"What's it _doing_? It's just sitting here. Why? Was it doing something exciting earlier?"

"Depends on your definition of exciting," Steve said.

"Hey, guys, I found her!" Pete ran up behind the gathered group, pushing a four-wheeled trolley with a wobbling saint statue in front of him. "Okay, so, now what?"

For a moment no one moved or spoke, considering the elements at play in the aisle. Saint statue, globe of light, music box, savant, saint apparition.

And then the trolley with the statue rolled forward, slipping between Pete and Vanessa.

"Grab it!" Artie ordered, and everyone between the statue and the light attempted to slow the trolley's progress.

But it too slipped into the light.

"You guys," Claudia moaned. "It's not that big in here! Stop sending presents!"

There was a short pause, and then she breathed, "_Whoa…"_

* * *

The saint on the trolley rolled to a stop a few inches from the music box. As though sensing its presence, the music box started vibrating and jerking across the floor. Claudia reached out and picked the music box up; it fought against her hands as she set it on the trolley next to the Saint Catherine statue.

The music box's lid flipped open, clacking against the trolley authoritatively.

The saint above Claudia and Adelie – the glowing one, as opposed to the saint on the trolley – reached down and carefully set her book upright into a slot between the music box's side and the glass-and-bone mechanisms.

Almost immediately the handle started turning of its own accord and voices floated up from the music box:

"I don't understand."

"How could you have let Hanover end up in prison, Ben?"

"I'm sorry, I thought that practicing medicine without a license was a _felony_, and as far as I can remember, we're mandated reporters, Gabriel. What did you expect? Why's she so important, anyway?"

"Because she's the brightest mind in ESM research today. And because I knew that if we were able to break that girl's autistic catatonia, we'd be hailed as visionaries, and then I wouldn't have to hide all that money Open Minds has been funneling in here."

"They think you're crazy, Gabriel, and what's worse, they think your program isn't beneficial anymore. They're going to pull the funding."

"They can't pull the funding! We're so close to a break-through!"

"So far the only thing the ESM has convinced that girl to do is play the piano like a fiend, and from what I understand, she was doing that _before_ the treatments."

"But I know that if we just keep going, just a little longer, she would speak! And we'd be famous!"

"I'd rather we actually help kids, Gabriel. And we're not helping her."

"You just say that."

"No, Gabriel, I'm convinced of it. I've been over her medical records. There is no reason to believe that with two surgical procedures and some thick glasses, that she couldn't be given back some of her vision. Or that if we found her the right tutor, she could learn Braille. But not in here, and not if we continue the ESM."

"You're such an ass, Ben."

"And you're in the clouds, Gabriel."

A noise from somewhere, like a door slamming.

"God damn it! How long was she standing there?"

"It doesn't matter, Gabriel. Open Minds is pulling the ESM program. Leave that poor girl alone."

"Ben! She heard _everything!"_

"And I'm telling you it's not our problem anymore, Gabriel. Find her a foster care placement. Get her out of this hospital. Or I'm going to the cops."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Just watch me."

Another noise, this one clearer – a gunshot.

And then silence.

The music box's handle slowed to a stop.

"Whoa," Claudia repeated. "I totally get it now, Adelie. You heard Dr. Wilson-Farrell shoot the Ben guy, the one who was in charge of the funding for the ESM project… and you were worried the doctor would come after you."

Adelie nodded slowly, carefully.

"And Saint Catherine…?" Claudia looked over at the statue.

The gentle-faced saint blinked, moving her little plaster hands outward in prayer, and recited: "_It is not is not the hour to seek one's self for one's self, nor to flee pains in order to possess consolations; nay, it is the hour to lose one's self."_

"In His holy name, Amen," the glowing apparition above them whispered.

And the light fell away, leaving two girls on the floor of the Warehouse next to a music box and a saint statue on a trolley.

* * *

Vanessa was the first to step carefully towards Claudia and Adelie. The shroud had stopped glowing, and Adelie was moving slowly, trying to hold her head up. "How's things?" the doctor asked.

"Been better," Claudia said. "Been worse."

"It looks like the shroud did the trick on the burn," Vanessa said, looking down at Adelie. The area that had been crusty, black, and oozing had been restored to some semblance of the girl's pale skin, though now it was mottled with angry, red, burned scar tissue.

"I'm sorry," Claudia said, turning to Artie. "I didn't know what the downside was, but I figured…"

Artie held up his hand. "You did the right thing."

Vanessa leaned in and carefully pushed against the IV needle still embedded in Adelie's arm. "Little pinch," she informed the girl, and quickly removed the needle and its attached tubing.

"_Thank you_," Adelie whispered.

"Did you guys hear all the stuff the statue said?" Claudia asked.

"Some of it," Myka said. "It makes sense, though, the part about losing one's self."

"When Adelie asked the saint in the ground to help her, she just wanted to leave the hospital. But the effects of the statue plus the music box, when added to the rod in her arm and the energy in the fence – all combined, the circuit translocated her somewhere else," Artie proposed.

"Here, to be precise," Steve said.

"But how did she know where the statue was in the ground?" Pete asked.

Myka thought. "Pete, remember when we went back to the hospital and it was empty? There wasn't any furniture, but there was…"

"A saint statue!" Pete exclaimed. "I remember! At the time, I thought it was just a shadow, but now that I think about it…"

"They must have taken it down when the state took over running the hospital," Myka said. "I bet since Adelie was there at the time, she knew what they did with the statue."

"And where to find it," Pete said.

He bent down and picked Adelie up. "Hey, kiddo."

"Thanks," Claudia said.

"So, that's it? Everything is just… okay?" Steve asked.

"Well, I think the Ben guy from Open Minds was right about one thing," Claudia said. "Adelie doesn't need to be in a hospital anymore. She deserves to have a home."

"I agree," a voice said from behind the group.

They turned. Mrs. Frederic was standing there, holding a tall glass of water. She walked forward and gave it to Claudia, who thirstily started drinking it.

"But not here," Mrs. Frederic continued. "I know she has created some special bonds with all of you, but after consideration we have decided there is a place for her where she will be safe and cared for."

"Go. Home," Adelie said into Pete's shoulder.

"Yes," Mrs. Frederic said. "Yes, it's time for you to go home."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Well, here we are. The very last chapter of "The Fallen Kind." It's been an amazing journey. Thanks for all the reviews - I read and appreciate each one! Please stay tuned... more Warehouse 13 fanfic soon!

Until then, enjoy!

(The song near the end of the chapter is "Home" by Vanessa Carlton, with a few changes made by me.)

* * *

_Six Months Later_

"Claudia, you're going to be late to your own birthday party!" Steve called, banging on the bathroom door.

"I'm fixing my hair!"

"We're going to the Mellow Bean," Steve said. "Most of those people have alternative hairstyles. You'll look fine."

"What kind of a birthday party takes place at a coffee shop on open mic night?" Claudia asked, opening the door.

"The kind that was going to take place at Al's Steak House, but which was rescheduled to the B and B shortly after Al burned down his Steak House… so instead we're going out for coffee and desserts," Steve said. "But I got you a present."

"Did they ever figure out _why_ Al burned down the steak house?" Claudia asked.

"Insurance money… or some sort of revenge deal," Steve said. "There are rumors his wife was having a seedy relationship with the guy who owns the pancake house."

"Nothing that interesting ever takes place in Univille," Claudia said.

"Ask Pete if you don't believe me," Steve said. "We were at the scene of the fire. We talked to the man himself."

"Are you guys ready to go?" Pete hollered up the stairs. "I want cake!"

"Since when do they have cake at the Mellow Bean?" Claudia asked Steve.

"Since we're bringing our own," Steve said.

"Oh, no, who made me a cake?"

"Myka," Steve said. "I would like to tell you that she volunteered, but I can't. She lost the rock paper scissors throw-down."

"Come _on!"_ Pete yelled.

"Pete, it's the Mellow Bean," Claudia said as they went downstairs. "The _Mellow_ Bean."

"Once those people get all hopped up on caffeine, you know they'd kill their mother for a good spot to tune their guitar," Pete said.

"Most of them have renounced parents," Claudia said. "And showering."

"We'll puzzle that one out later," Steve said. "You know, after cake."

"Where's Artie and Myka?"

"They went ahead to… cut the cake," Pete said.

"Why would they cut it before I blow out the candles?"

"They went ahead to… order the coffee."

"What if I want a smoothie?"

"Then get a smoothie," Pete said. "The rest of us are having coffee."

"Are you sure there's not something else going on here?" Claudia asked.

"Well, if we never leave the house, we'll never find out, will we?"

"Did you fly my brother in from Switzerland?'

"Who makes that much money?"

"Okay, you flew Fargo in?"

"He makes his own money, he could fly himself in," Pete said. "Now, come on."

* * *

The Mellow Bean was filled with the usual open mic night crowd – hippies, wannabe hippies, good-looking guys with angelic voices, knit hat enthusiasts, off-duty baristas, and, oddly enough, Brenda from the post office. And, in a far corner, Artie, Vanessa, and Myka.

Artie waved enthusiastically as Pete, Steve, and Claudia came in.

"As if we don't know who we're here to have coffee with," Pete said.

"I think it's cute," Steve said.

They crossed the room to the sounds of two men in overalls tuning banjos. Myka stood up and threw her arms around Claudia. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks," Claudia said with a grin.

"Happy birthday," Vanessa and Artie chimed in.

"Sit, sit," Artie said, beaming as he pointed to a chair next to him. "We didn't know what you wanted, so we got you a coffee _and_ a smoothie."

Claudia took a seat next to Artie. "Wow. Coffee _and_ a smoothie. Big spender, Artie."

"And cake!" Myka said, bringing out a somewhat heap-shaped cake frosted thickly in pink.

"Mmm," Claudia said.

"Claudia, are you going to play tonight?" Vanessa asked. "Sure would be nice to have some music that's not bluegrass."

"Working on my birthday?" Claudia laughed. "Maybe, we'll see."

Myka opened a box of candles and started sticking them into the frosting. Pete produced a lighter from somewhere and began lighting them. "Get ready, everybody!"

While Claudia blushed furiously, the Warehouse's family sang "Happy Birthday" in a silly, off-key way. Claudia laughed as Pete prompted: "Now blow out the candles!"

"And make a wish," Vanessa added.

Claudia held her hair back from the candles and thought about a wish for a moment. _I wish we could all be happy like this more often_. And she blew out the candles.

Then there was cheering and clapping, and Myka reappeared with a knife and a cake server. Pete jumped out of his seat and headed across the café to wrangle up some plates and silverware from the barista.

"Steve," Artie said as Myka began cutting the cake, "where is your present?"

"Oh! My present!" Steve said.

"Why are you guys talking like that?" Claudia asked.

"Like what?" Steve smiled.

"Like you're trying really, really hard to clue me into something."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Claudia," Artie said. "Steve, perhaps you should go and get your present."

"Perhaps I should," Steve said. "Back in a jiffy."

"Nobody under the age of sixty-five says 'jiffy,'" Claudia informed him as he got up from the table.

"Don't mock me, or I'll run into a door on the way out."

"You wouldn't."

"You apparently don't know me that well."

"It's my birthday, you cretin," Claudia laughed.

Pete came back with a stack of plates and laid them out on the table. "All right, Mykes, start cutting some cake!"

"You got too many plates," Claudia informed him.

"No, I didn't," Pete said.

"There are six of us, and you clearly have eight plates," Claudia said.

"Hey, easy there, math whiz," Pete said. "Those are for me. I'm planning on having three pieces of cake."

"Why not just put them all on the same plate, like you did with the pie at Thanksgiving?" Claudia asked mischievously.

"Because we're out in public, and I'm a classy guy."

Pete turned to supervise Myka in the cutting of cake slices – "No, bigger, Myka! What is this, daycare? I'm a man!" – and Artie and Vanessa just laughed, basking in the glow of the bluegrass-playing banjo brothers.

They finished their Def Leppard bluegrass tribute, and a scruffy-looking man stepped up to mic: "And that was Anders and Andrew Dahl. Next up – well, there isn't anybody up next. So, come on down!"

"Claudia?" came Steve's voice from behind her. "There's someone here who wants to say happy birthday."

"If it's that Rupert guy, tell him I figured out he's not British, and I am not interested in dating him, and…" Claudia turned around. "_Oh."_

Steve was standing next to a gray-haired woman in a pale green pantsuit. She was wearing wire-rimmed glasses and gaudy earrings that off-set her spiky hairdo perfectly. "I'm Joyce Bradley," she said. "Happy Birthday."

And next to Joyce was someone Claudia had thought she'd never see again.

"Adelie?" Claudia asked softly.

But it wasn't the Adelie who had fallen into the Warehouse. She was older, taller, more grown-up; it had only been six months, though, was that even possible? A pair of thick glasses magnified her gorgeous eyes, and she was looking right at Claudia as though she could see her; Claudia got the distinct feeling that she _could_ see her. She was wearing a dark blue flowered dress, light blue tights, and black Mary Jane shoes. In one hand she was carrying a perfectly-sized white cane of the kind favored by blind people. In her other hand was a somewhat-messily-wrapped present.

And though Claudia could still see the burned scar tissue on Adelie's neck, and though Adelie was still as skinny and awkward-looking as before, the girl before her was focused, standing still, looking poised and calm. No rocking, no flapping, no screaming – no matter what trauma had been done to her, _this_ was the real Adelie.

"Happy," Adelie said, as though to prove a point, and held the present in Claudia's general direction, smiling. "Happy, real girl?"

"Happy," Claudia repeated, and threw her arms around the girl.

"Happy," Adelie said into Claudia's shoulder. "Happy, ow."

And Claudia laughed.

* * *

"It was fortuitous that Mrs. Frederic contacted me," Joyce Bradley said. "My husband… he had passed away a couple weeks before Agent Bering and Agent Latimer came to see me. I was devastated. My son tried to talk me into moving in with him and his family, but for some reason I just couldn't leave my house. And then Mrs. Frederic came to see me and asked if I would consider taking in Adelie."

"Cake," Adelie said.

"Here you go," Myka said, and put a plate in front of her. She waited until Adelie looked at her, and then put the fork in the girl's hand.

Adelie carefully broke off a tiny piece of cake and brought it up to her mouth. Then she set it down.

"Mrs. Frederic told me that there were some things I needed to be prepared for. And I told her that whatever they were, they didn't matter. Adelie was mine," Joyce went on. "She's been mine since I found her in that basement – I just didn't know it at the time."

"So she's been with you for six months?" Artie asked.

"Yes," Joyce said, beaming proudly. "And in that time, so many wonderful things have happened. She had surgery on her eyes, and they were able to give her back most of her sight. She'll never drive, of course, but she can see well enough to be classified as legally blind, rather than light-perceptive blind. And she took to cane usage and reading Braille just as quickly as we could find someone to help her learn, and she's been working very hard at speech therapy. It's like she was hungry to learn."

Joyce laughed. "Which is funny, because I gather that after whatever transpired out here, that was when she stopped eating."

Claudia looked at Artie, who mouthed "_Downside" _as unobtrusively as he could.

"But it was all right. She had the feeding tube put in and it works like a charm. She's still interested in food, but won't actually _eat_ any of it," Joyce said. "It's all right. My son Carson has had a feeding tube for years – muscular dystrophy made it hard for him to get all the calories he needed. So I'm an old hand. Didn't even faze me."

Joyce smiled at Adelie, who had abandoned the cake fork. "And I love her to pieces. She fills our home with music and I honestly can't imagine life without her."

"Cake, Joyce?" Myka asked.

"Oh, yes, please," Joyce said. "Adelie, give Claudia her present."

Adelie reached for the present and held it tightly, as though she couldn't quite bear to let go of it. "Piano," she said.

"Adelie," Joyce prompted. "The present is for Claudia."

"Piano," Adelie repeated, and pointed to the now-empty stage.

"Adelie," Joyce said firmly.

Adelie rolled her eyes behind her thick glasses and tapped her mouth, the first autistic behaviors Claudia had seen since they'd come into the restaurant.

"Don't tap. Spell for me instead," Joyce said, and from her tote bag she removed an iPad, flicking it on and setting it in front of Adelie.

Adelie leaned towards the screen until her glasses clicked against it. Then she pressed the oversized letters on the screen, spelling out a message carefully. With another press of the screen, the iPad spoke for her: "I don't want to give her that. It is silly and little and you made me buy it. I want to play the piano for her instead."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll like it," Claudia said.

Adelie shook her head and pointed at the iPad screen again.

"Okay," Joyce said. "Fine. Go play the piano."

She said it as though she didn't expect Adelie to follow through, but the dark-haired girl scooped up her cane and began navigating away from the table.

"I'm sorry," Joyce said to Claudia. "We talked about gift-giving."

"It's okay," Claudia said. In her heart, she was happy – Adelie playing the piano was truthfully better than anything sold in any store.

"Somebody better tell the emcee," Pete said, and Steve jumped up and ran after Adelie.

Moments later, the scruffy emcee came back to the mic. "Um, okay, this is Adelie, and she's going to play a song for us. Give her a hand."

The assembled crowd in the Mellow Bean gave Adelie a mediocre round of applause as they watched the blind girl settle herself on the piano bench. She waved one hand in the air, and Steve went over to her. Adelie whispered something to him, and he smiled and walked to the side of the stage where the emcee had left the microphone. He brought it over to Adelie and set it up close to her mouth, then vacated the stage.

Slowly Adelie played a longing introduction, simple and uncomplicated. There was a pause, and then she began to sing.

"_Some people live in a house on a hill… and wish they were someplace else… there's nobody there… when the evening is still… secrets with no one to tell…"_

The melody opened up a little, and the accompaniment picked up.

"_And some I have known have a ship where they sleep with sounds of rocks on the coast… they sail over oceans five fathoms deep… but they can't find what they want the most._

"_Even now when I'm alone… I've always known it was you… you brought me home."_

She raised her head, the enigma of a girl who singlehandedly had uprooted order in the Warehouse and changed everything Claudia thought she knew about saints, and Adelie searched for Claudia, thick glasses glinting in the overhead lights.

"_Some live in towns… cardboard shack on concrete… they search for color they never quite see… 'cause it's all white on white…_

"_Even now when I'm alone… I know it was you… you were the one who brought me home."_

She played, twisting some familiar classical themes into the instrumental break, smiling.

"_For me… it's a glance, and a smile on my face, and a hug you gave me, and an honest embrace… for wherever I lay it's you I keep… in my changing world I fall asleep… with you all I know is that you brought me home."_

Adelie wound up the melody, bringing the song back to the slow, longing introduction, and she smiled the whole way through. When the music was fading away, before the patrons of the Mellow Bean had time to register that the song was over, Adelie found the microphone with her fingers and leaned in close to it again. "Happy. Birthday."

Steve squeezed Claudia's hand. "A pretty good present, huh?"

"The best," Claudia said.

Adelie caned her way back to table, seemingly oblivious to the crowd of the Mellow Bean, who were applauding now. She found Claudia and dropped her cane to the floor, putting her hands on Claudia's knees and leaning in close, her eyes magnified almost comically by the thick glasses.

"Adelie," Joyce said. "Personal space, remember?"

Adelie rolled her eyes and smiled, and Claudia smiled back. "You can see me, can't you?"

"Happy?" Adelie asked, looking seriously at Claudia to gauge her reaction.

"Happy," Claudia confirmed.

"Present," Adelie said, and turned her attention back to the table. Once she found the package, she handed it to Claudia, repeating, "Present."

"Sure," Claudia said, and carefully began removing the ribbons and paper from the present.

Pete grabbed the ribbons and made a crown out of them, which he set on Steve's head. "Now you're a pretty princess, Jinksy."

"What was in that coffee?" Myka asked.

"Say hello," Adelie said as Claudia peeled back the tape on the small box. "Say hello."

Claudia started laughing when she saw what was in the box.

"Does this mean something special to you?" Joyce asked, looking over at the girls nervously. "Adelie seemed convinced that you would want this, although I tried to tell her that an iTunes gift card is nicer…"

"It's perfect," Claudia said, setting the miniature statue of Saint Catherine of Siena on the table. "She's smiling."

"Are you sure? I think it's the first time she's ever picked out a present for someone, and…" Joyce still looked worried.

"It's perfect," Claudia repeated. "I can hardly wait to take her home."

"Now stay here," Adelie said to the statue, a warning finger held aloft as though the saint could actually heed her directions. "Stay here. Be happy."

And she kissed the saint on top of her plasticene head.


End file.
